


Wisia's DCU Drabbles

by wisia



Series: Wisia's DCU Drabbles [1]
Category: DCU
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, Crack, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Other, References to Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, batfamily, mature - Freeform, porny-ish pieces
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 163
Words: 61,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mainly Tim/Kon drabbles. And Ra's/Tim drabbles. And other random pairings. Includes batfamily fics, tim-centric pieces or whatever I throw in here. Updated 7/11/13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Just collecting all the drabbles and other random too short for their own posting that were posted on tumblr. Please make sure you read the notes or summaries. So you don't read something that triggers you or don't like. I think I put them all in there, but let me know if I didn't and I'll fix it. Thanks.

“Do you trust me?”

The words slipped out of Kon’s mouth faster than he could blink. Tim lifted his head, startled, and it wasn’t easy to startle him either.

“What?” The word rolled out of Tim’s mouth, questioningly. Kon cleared his throat, “Um, do you trust me?”

He couldn’t read Tim’s eyes as they bore into him. The blue was deep, focused and unsettlingly unnerving. He rubbed the back of his neck, “never mind. It’s not—it’s a stupid question.”

Kon turned away and stared at the books on Tim’s shelves. What was he thinking? It took ages for Tim to even tell him that he was Tim Drake and not Alvin Draper.

“Kon…,” Tim’s voice was abnormally soft.  “Do you think I don’t trust you?”

“No,” Kon blurted out. “I just, well…”

He wanted to know for sure. That he wasn’t just something like a replaceable clone. Tim placed a hand on his shoulder. Involuntarily, Kon looked at Tim. Tim was actually smiling for once.

“If I didn’t trust you, would you be here, in my room?”


	2. Another Tim

 Kon didn’t know what to do. The Tim that was before him was Red Robin. A Red Robin Tim, not the one he knew. No, a Tim he knew and he didn’t know mashed up into some strange form. He studied Tim, noting how the red cloth and dark cape emphasize the changes Tim had undergone. Kon couldn’t shake off the feeling that Tim probably had a bunch of new scars under, etched onto his skin. That made him sad.

                But he didn’t have to do anything at all. With one smooth move, Tim pulled back his cowl. His hair was longer, and Kon didn’t have time to register anything else. Because Tim was hugging him, clinging to him. He barely caught the “I miss you”, and Kon only thought about what he heard. That Tim tried to clone him. And Kon hugged Tim back.


	3. Please

             Tim smashed his lips to Kon. It surprised Kon, but he kissed back. The kiss was different from the normal ones Tim gave him, but Kon knew it was Tim and not an imposter. He could tell, but the kiss wasn’t the same. It was rougher. Harder. Longer. And Kon was uncomfortably bent as Tim had pulled his head down for the kiss. However, Kon didn’t dare pull away until Tim did.

                And Tim was staring at him, eyes heated and cheeks flushed.

                “I—I—,” Tim stuttered. He released Kon’s shirt from his tight grip, edging backward. Kon understood then and dragged Tim into his embrace. He kissed Tim and used his TKK to support Tim, balancing for the proper height.

                And Kon thought if he had to describe the kiss with a word, it would be “please”.


	4. Keeping it secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon tries to keep Tim's present a secret.

"What is this?" Tim's voice drifted into Kon's ear. Kon shot upward, his shoulder bumping Tim's chin.

"Tim!" He yelped and settled back down hard. The chair cracked but thankfully didn't break. Kon didn't want to keep breaking Ma's furniture. He flipped the catalogue he was looking at closed and tossed it to the side. Kon winced when it made a small dent against the wall. "It's--it's nothing!"

Tim chuckled, the sound reverberating deliciously against Kon's cheek. The bump hadn't deterred Tim's proximity at all, and Kon had a rather hard head. He turned sideway in his chair, hands tracing Tim's jaw. "Did I hurt you?"

The skin was slightly pink. It didn't look as if there would be a bruise. Tim looked at him, amused. "I'll tell everyone my boyfriend likes to beat me up."

"I thought it was the other way around," Kon replied.

"Only way to keep you in line," Tim said. "So, what was that?"

"Nothing," Kon answered. He poked Tim in the cheek.

"Nothing?" Tim echoed. He arched an eyebrow as Kon's face flushed, mimicking Superman's red. "Y-yeah."

Tim snaked his arms around Kon's neck, looking down at Kon. "You know I'll find out any--mmpfh!"

Kon kissed Tim as thoroughly as possible, distracting him. He'd be damned if he let Tim figure out his birthday present this year. The bastard managed to find out all the other previous years. It was a shame he couldn't just lead line it like Tim did to his gifts.


	5. Nutcracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to "Keeping it secret"

 

"You bought me a nut cracker?" Tim said dumbfounded. The nutcracker was about eight inches tall, made entirely of wood and painted in bright red with a yellow belt, black pants and boots--it even sported a small fuzzy hat and a rather pointy spear for wood. Well, that was its toothpick, Tim guessed.

"Yup," Kon responded, grinning. Tim was still baffled. "A nutcracker? For my birthday?"

"Why not?" Kon shrugged. He picked up the nutcracker, and lifted the wooden piece at the back. "Look, it can crack nuts! I know. I tried it at the store."

"Kon...," and Tim couldn't even began to express his thoughts. Of all the things, why a nutcracker?

Kon shoved the nutcracker back into Tim's hands. Then, he leaned back in his chair and posed dramatically.

"Well, I could have wrapped myself up if you prefer."

He tugged up his shirt slightly, revealing tanned flesh. Kon wagged his eyebrow suggestively. He received a slight slap to his head.

"Kon, be serious!"

"I am serious." He looked into Tim's eyes, holding onto Tim's hands, the nutcracker between their palms. "I thought long and hard about what to get you because it's so hard, especially since you're so rich. And I was walking around -- and boom! Nutcracker!"

"Okay...," Tim said slowly. "But why a nutcracker?"

"Hm...during one of my first Christmas, I saw one of these guys. I thought they were kind of weird. And someone told me that they can ward away nightmares."

Kon coughed, embarrassed. "And, well, you have a lot of nightmares. So, I thought you could, you know, when I'm not here, you can sleep well."

"Oh, Kon," and Tim didn't know what to say. Kon reached into his pocket. "Look! I even got a mini one, so you can take it on missions!"

"You goofball," and Tim kissed Kon on the cheek. "Thanks."


	6. Because Kon's a Nightwing Fanboy

 

"Wait," Tim said suspiciously. "Are you telling me that you are only dating me because of Dick?"

"Hm. Maybe," Kon hummed. He was stirring a bowl of pancake batter. Tim wadded up his newspaper. It hit the back of Kon's head with a thud, not that it hurt because Kon was invulnerable to things smacking him upside the head. Especially when he got Tim riled up.

"Kon. Please say you're joking."

"Well, you know I'm a Wingnut," Kon shrugged, half smiling to himself. He looked down at the brown liquid in the bowl. Maybe he over stirred it. It looked kind of watery.

"Everyone knew that," Tim said, exasperated. "You're like his biggest fanboy."

"Like all you Bats were fans of Clark," Kon countered. He dumped some more flour into the batter, trying to thicken it.

"Right." Tim's eyes bored into the back of Kon's head.

"Yup," Kon said and grinned at Tim over his shoulder. "I thought it was a good idea. Date Robin, marry him and get Nightwing as my brother in law."

"Kon!"

Kon merely laughed. "And I think pancakes for breakfast is out. I kind of ruined it."


	7. A Defective Cake

 

He wasn't doing this. They weren't doing this. Oh god, they were doing it. Kon smashed his head against the wall. Or at least he tried to. Tim prevented him from doing so with a slight press of his palm on Kon's forehead. If it wasn't dark, he knew he'd see Tim sporting a disapproving frown.

"Quit it," he half hissed into kon's ear but quietly. Kon managed to wriggle a hand free in the cramped space and poked Tim hard. Kon hoped it was in the stomach since he couldn't see. Either way, he was granted the satisfaction of Tim barely suppressing a cry. A gloved hang tightened around Kon's neck.

"What the hell, Kon?"

"You asked for it," Kon whispered back. He really hated this. He started fidgeting again. Tim told him to hold still. It didn't last long.

"Why do we have to be inside of a cake?" Kon whined, still whispering. Because that's where they were. Inside of a fake pop out cake.

"It's the only way to get in," Tim answered annoyed. "We've been through this. Now shut up! They might hear us."

Kon hated this. The silence was killing him. They weren't going anywhere. At least, Kon consoled himself, they didn't have to wear the outfits. Not that Bart and Cassie didn't try to convince them. But Tim probably would have looked hot in that ultra short fluffy skirt. Hm, Kon thought. He could go with that.

Carefully, Kon felt for Tim's face. Not that he had to search far. He accidentally knocked Tim's nose.

"Kon," Tim warned, voice pained. "Quit moving."

"Sorry," Kon replied. He had Tim's face in his hands. "Accident."

"What are you doing?"

Kon's right hand had slipped behind to Tim's neck while the other cupped Tim's face.

"Making good use of time," and he kissed Tim chastely. He missed as Tim pulled away with a sharp intake of breath.

"That was my nose," Tim said. There was a slight pause. "You do know we are on a mission, right?"

"Yeah, but--"

Kon didn't get to finish his words. The lid was opened and light streamed in. They had missed the cue of the cake rolled into the room and the end of the song. A burly guard looked down at them in shock.

"Uh, boss," the guard said. "This cake's, uh, defective..."

"What? No strippers?" A voice derided. "I thought it was my birthday."

Kon really hated missions like this.


	8. Using a TTK Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Meeya.

 

“Do you have any line paper?” Kon asked. “Tim?”

“Hm?” Tim looked up from his laptop where he was focused on going over business reports for Wayne Industries. “What did you say?”

Kon shook his head. “You seriously need a break. I said, do you have any line paper? I ran out.”

He tapped his lead pencil against the current and last sheet he was working on. College algebra, like he even needed it in the first place. He was a superhero not a mathematician. Tim would disagree though, but he was all scienc-y and stuff.

“Line paper,” Tim repeated, forehead scrunched up in thought. “I don’t really use them much now. I mostly have plain white paper for printing…oh. I think there’s some in my room, bottom left drawer of my desk. Help yourself.”

He waved his hand absently and returned to the steady click-clacking of keys. Kon nodded and with a noise of assent he floated his way (because flying was so much better than walking) up the stairs into Tim’s room. It was a really strange feeling. It made Kon felt like he was on drugs or something because he was in TIM’S ROOM and all ALONE, and now it was just some sort of surreal freaky thing. Kon shrugged the sensation off and made a beeline for the drawer.

He tugged at the wooden handle and nearly broke it off. Kon studied the drawer. It was locked. Kon frowned and decided that maybe it was the wrong drawer. He laughed to himself, even Tim could be wrong sometimes. Kon checked all the other drawers, on top of the desk, even the bookshelf but there were no signs of the pesky line papers in sight. Then, he sighed and pulled at the handle of the drawer again even though he knew it wouldn’t open because hey, it was  _locked_. He could ask Tim for a key, but Tim was preoccupied, severely so—which Kon planned to change the moment he finished his stupid math homework.

Carefully, Kon shaped his TTK and slipped it into the keyhole, mentally feeling the contours of the key’s form. Applying slight pressure, Kon twisted his TTK and with a click, the drawer was unlocked. He was so glad Bart suggested he learn to pick locks with his TTK. Kon pulled the drawer open and his hand landed on a stack of folded letters, a bit worn and creased, tied with a red ribbon. Kon raised his eyebrows curiously at this. He pulled out the letters and ignored the line papers he was looking for that was underneath it. His heart hammered and he wondered if these were letters from an ex, but as far as Kon knew, Stephanie wasn’t the type to write letters. But if someone was writing love letters to Tim…

He slowly tugged the ribbon, freeing the bow.

“Kon! Wrong drawer,” Tim called out, and Kon heard him rushing up the stairs. “I mean—“

But Kon had already unfolded the first letter.

“Are these love letters?” Kon teased, hiding his concern that Tim might love someone else. Tim was white, he stuttered, “I-I—“

It seemed like a confirmation to Kon, and his heart wrenched so bad that Kon almost didn’t look at the letter, but he did because he had to know who he was competing against.

_Dear Beloved…_

Kon’s heart stopped.

“Tim,” he said because the letter was so sappy it could make a good run against all the cheesy romance novels in the room, because the letter wasn’t from anyone and actually written by Tim and because the letter was for  _him_. He glanced at the date and hurriedly flipped through the rest of them, skimming. They were all letters. For Kon.

“I…you shouldn’t read them. They’re really crappy,” Tim stammered, all red and embarrassed.

“It’s not too bad,” Kon consoled. It was so sweet, just annoyingly sappy.

“Well,” Tim said, and he was looking everywhere except for Kon. “Since—you can keep them if you want.”

Then Kon was grinning madly and hugging the letters to his chest, half crushing them.

“Of course I’m keeping them! You’re crazy if you think I won’t.”


	9. Do Not Disturb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is rated mature.

               Kon’s forehead furrowed as he felt himself waking. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to return to dreamland, but there was a soft constant noise near his ear. It sounded like panting. Tim’s panting.  _What?_  Kon opened his eyes and his mouth to say something, worried but stopped short. Tim, oh shit, Tim was in bed next to him and he was… _touching_  himself. Kon had a mental brain freeze as he listened to the slid of sheets rubbing against skin and Tim’s quiet sounds of pleasure. He knew Tim touched himself, hell, Kon did it himself, but this?

                “Kon,” Tim breathed and Kon was ready to pounce, hard in his boxers, but Tim didn’t seem to realize he was awake and continued to stroke in slow teasing sweeps. Tim’s voice emitted a short high pitched whine, and Kon just had to do something. He rolled onto his side and pressed his lips to Tim who tensed at first and relaxed, registering what was happening. Their tongues tangled lazily together, and Tim was  _still_  jerking off. Shit, that was hot.

                “You should have woken me up,” Kon muttered, a hand reaching between them to squeeze Tim’s membrane.

                “I—didn’t want to—bother you,” Tim gasped out, “you were—oh—tired.”

                He groaned appreciatively as Kon nibbled down his jaw and neck.

                “Krypt—to—ni—an,” Kon replied. “And—I’m---always—up—for sex.”

                “Yeah, I can tell,” Tim retorted, feeling Kon’s full mast pressing against his thigh.

                “Oh, shut up,” Kon laughed. “Or I won’t help you get off.”

                “Was managing fine without you.”

                “Oh?” And Kon had to use his TTK. Tim trembled, and he threw a leg over Kon, knocking the meta back into the mattress, straddling.

                “Mostly,” Tim amended.

                “That’s what I thought.”


	10. "Boyfriend" versus "Boy friend"

 

"Oh, who's that?" Bernard called from the second floor, leaning on the balcony. Tim was walking with Kon when Bernard had spotted them, calling out.

"This is Kon," Tim shouted back. "I was just picking him up."

"I see," Bernard replied back. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"Yes," Tim said. He looked over at Kon who had a strange expression on his face. Then, Tim flushed.  _What did he just say?_  "I mean, he's my friend that's a boy."

He wanted to smack his head. How lame was that? That was like, "she's my girl and she's my friend" type spiel.

"That's cool," Bernard said, waving to Kon. "You should bring him next time we hang out."

"Yeah, sure," Tim said. "I'm going to go now."

"Later!"

And Tim hurriedly walked away, face burning as Kon followed bemused. 

"You know we could make that real, right?" Kon teased. 

"Shut up," Tim ordered. 

\------

Or not. That didn't quite turn out how I wanted. Oh well, I'm off. Got to finish my medication list for tomorrow or who knows what will happen to my patients.

Reminder: Edit, add and fix tags and do links and all that crazy but necessary stuff.


	11. Toothbrush

Tim splashed his face with cold water, trying to wake himself up. It was a long and hard patrol last night, and he was going to be late for that ten o' clock meeting. He reached for his toothbrush and paused. In the holder was one red toothbrush and one  green toothbrush. They looked ridiculously like an ode to the Christmas spirit the way the two crossed each other into a "X".

He looked at the toothbrushes thoughtfully, then he grabbed the green one and brushed his teeth.

\------

Kon padded into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Tim was making waffles.

"Tim?" He asked, confused. He glanced at the clock. "I thought you had a meeting."

"I postponed it," Tim said, smiling. "I don't need to go anywhere till two. Want some waffles?"

Kon sidled up to Tim and pressed a kiss to Tim's cheek. "Smells good."

As they sat down to eat, Tim just grinned.


	12. Pimple

 

                “I’m going to take a while,” Kon said, glancing at Tim apologetically. Tim stood in the middle of Kon’s room, hands casually shoved in his pockets.

                “Okay,” he replied softly. “I don’t mind.”

                There was a long pause as Kon stared at Tim.

                “Really, I don’t,” Tim added when Kon didn’t stop.

                “It’s not that.” Kon shook his head. “Just, you know you can sit, right?”

                “Yeah,” Tim nodded. “I just feel like standing.”

                There was a faint pink edging onto his cheeks. Kon wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure?”

                “Finish your work, Kon.”

                “All right,” Kon said uncertainly. He sat down at his desk and raced through the last of his homework. As he did so, Kon could hear Tim pacing behind him. Kon sighed.

                “Just sit down. I’m almost done.”

                “Fine,” Tim clipped. A small hiss of pain escaped his lips as he did so. Kon slammed his pencil down, turned around and looked at Tim.

                “Are you hurt?”

                “No.” Tim looked back at him, a neutral expression on his face. Kon didn’t believe him. “Tim.”

                Tim flushed and looked down at his knees. “I’m not hurt. It’s…stupid.”

                “Try me.”

                Kon got up and sat next to Tim.

                “Um…” Tim was really red in the face. “You don’t want to know. Trust me.”

                Tim stood up, but Kon jerked Tim back down. Kon felt Tim’s muscles clenched tightly underneath his hand, a sign that Tim was suppressing pain or irritation.

                “Did you get a bullet to the butt or something?” Kon demanded to know, hand at Tim’s waist.

                “No!”

                Tim gripped Kon’s hand hard, preventing his pants from being pulled down. He blushed furiously, the red spreading down to his neck. He mumbled, but Kon’s sensitive ears caught it.

                He laughed.

                “You have a  _pimple_  on your ass?”

                Tim glared at him. “It’s not a pimple. It’s folliculitis.”

                “But how?” Kon wanted to know, still amused.

                “I think it’s because of my costume. Because it’s tight.”

                “Skin tight,” Kon continued. Then, “do you want me to pop it?”

                “What? No! I don’t want a scar if you do it wrong!”

                “Pft,” Kon replied. “What’s one more?”


	13. Hypersensitive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M.

Tim hated being sick. It meant he couldn't patrol, couldn't work, couldn't do anything except for sleep and cough hack his way through struggling to breathe. And he was sick now. He still hated it, but it was for  _entirely different_  reasons.

"Kon," Tim coughed. "I'm going to get you sick."

Kon slowly dragged a heated palm up Tim's thigh. "Pft -- who do you think you're talking to? I'm not going to get sick."

Tim groaned as Kon's hand continued to travel up. His skin was always hypersensitive whenever he was ill, and Kon's touch literally burned. He sluggishly put a hand on top of the wandering hand before it got too close for more.

"Kon. I'm  _not_  well enough to do anything."

"Who says you have to?"

And with that, Kon was tugging down at Tim's pajama bottoms. Tim hissed at the low aching prickle with each movement, and Kon's fingers were trailing down igniting lines of heat. Despite the haziness of being sick, Tim could feel himself hardening.

"Kon," he whimpered and then coughed painfully.

"Just relax." Kon's voice was soft and reassuring.

"Oh," and Tim had to stifled a cry as Kon's tongue tasted his inner thigh. It burned. It seared. It tinged and torched. And each raw slide of tongue up to Tim's cock was melded lava and ecstasy.

"Hm...you're so much more sensitive, Tim," Kon commented as Tim jerked violently as Kon barely pressed a finger to his aching cock.

"I...I..."

Tim squeezed his eyes shut, feeling slightly dizzy and his hands scrabbled to clutch at his sheets and Kon carefully took him in his mouth, centimeter by centimeter of molten pleasure.

"Kon," he gasped, and he pulled at the sheets tighter. Kon did something with his tongue and, oh god, his TTK was everywhere. Even the phantom caresses were pools of fire threatening to liquefy Tim into a mess of fever and lust.

He forced his eyes open to look at Kon with bleary eyes. "You're going to. Ah. Kill me."

And he whined as Kon swiped his tongue around the head in answer. Oh yeah, Tim hated being sick. Especially when Kon was around.


	14. Stupid

                He slipped out of the crowded room quietly to his car. This was too much. The entire night was a disaster. And Tim winced when he accidentally slammed the car door onto his own fingers. It didn’t stop him into a dead halt though. He retracted his rapidly reddening fingers and closed the door properly this time, locking it. Then, he gripped the steering wheel and his head came down onto it with a soft resounding smack.

                “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he repeated to himself. “What was I thinking?

                Tim slammed his head onto the steering wheel again. It just wasn’t a good night for a social event as Tim Drake-Wayne. There was a soft tap on the glass as he groaned over the remembrance of it all.

                Kon waved to him, and Tim blushed. He scrolled down the window hastily.

                “Uh, hey.” Tim’s voice cracked slightly. Kon looked at him, bemused. “I thought you were leaving.”

                “I am.”

                “You haven’t even started your car,” Kon pointed out. The keys were in Tim’s lap, having been dropped there while Tim banged his head on the steering wheel.

                “I was about to. I—“ Tim picked up the keys and shoved it into the ignition. He didn’t turn the keys, staring at the wheel. “Sorry about tonight.”

                Kon laughed. “The paparazzi weren’t that bad. I have experience.”

                Tim shrugged. Kon stooped down, his arms crossed on the small space of the rolled down window and door. “I know you’re famous, bird boy.”

                He leaned his head further in, face near touching Tim. Tim could feel Kon’s breath on his cheek.

                “But it was…,” Tim trailed off. He had never felt so awkward or clumsy in his life. He bit his lips and tried again.

                “I didn’t think—“ “I demand a second date though.”

                “What?” Tim jerked his head up.

“You heard me. I’m not repeating myself,” Kon replied. He started walking backwards. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Wait, Kon!”

“Yeah?” Kon paused and walked forward back to Tim.

“You forgot something.”

Tim reached out and gently pulled Kon’s face down to his, kissing him.

“Breaking the no kiss on the first date rule?” Kon chuckled. His fingers were tangled in the back of Tim’s hair.

“I can make an exception,” Tim replied smoothly. “After all, tonight was a disaster.”


	15. Rooster

  “Tim,” and Kon’s frown was so disapproving it near rivaled Aunt Martha’s whenever Kon did something wrong or was fooling around. Tim, however, didn’t even bat an eye at his boyfriend’s deepening frown and patted the empty space next to him. Kon took the gestured seat with a sigh.

                “How long have you been sitting out here?” Kon asked. The sky was a deep black infused with glimmers of blue. It was five in the morning, and even though Kon was used to the time, it was still freaking early. Especially when  _someone_  should be asleep.

                Tim scooted closer to Kon and leaned against him. “I don’t know. An hour?”

                “Dude, you have been up all night, and instead of sleeping, you sit on the roof?” The frown on Kon’s lips was fiercer now, laced with concern as he wrapped an arm around Tim.

                “Shh,” Tim placed a finger on Kon’s lips, quieting him. He closed his eyes, and Kon listened to the slow, steady rise and fall of Tim’s breathing. Tim’s heart was pumping, regular and loud, a constant to Kon’s ears.

                “You are so…argh,” Kon said, unable to find a word to express the frustration in dealing with Tim’s sleeping patterns. Tim popped one eye open, a smile tugging at his lips.

                “I  _was_  going to bed, but the sky looked really nice. I wanted to look at it.”

                “You doofus.” Kon shook his head and pulled Tim into his lap. “Sleep is more important. You can look at the sky any old day.”

                Tim yawned. “I know, but it looked so nice.”

                His eyes were closed as again as he added, “I also didn’t want to wake you when there’s only an hour left before you have to get up.”

                Kon snorted and dragged his fingers through Tim’s hair. “I woke up  _because_  you weren’t there.”

                “My bad, then?” Tim laughed sleepily.

                “Yeah, your bad.”

                And Kon scooped Tim up, rising. “Time to sleep, bird boy unless you want to wake the town.”

                “I’m a Robin, not a rooster.” Tim burrowed his head into Kon’s chest.

                “Same thing,” Kon replied. “And you own me some sexy time.”


	16. Indecent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly rated mature.

                   “Are you naked?” Tim squawked, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the line of muscles, the tanned flesh, and his fingers itched for a camera to capture it all. Tim was wrestling between jumping the meta or beating some sense into him.

                “Yup,” Kon grinned, oblivious to Tim’s internal panicking. “I’m getting me some sun.”

                Kon spread his arm wide to encompass the amount of sunlight raining down on the rooftop. All the light was bright enough to hurt Tim’s eyes. It was noon, and the sun was directly overhead. Tim slunk into a small corner of shade.

                “It’s indecent,” Tim snapped. He slid down against the wall to sit, legs drawn up protectively. He was pretty sure there was a violation somewhere – to look that good and careen around like that.

                “We’re on a rooftop,” Kon disagreed. “Who’s going to see this? Here?”

                “We have cameras,” Tim informed him blithely. Even if relatively few people could see the roof of the Tower, there were still cameras. And Tim knew exactly how many there were (eleven) and where they were all located. Kon shrugged, and Tim made a mental note to steal the footage later.

                Then, Kon spread himself on an open flat lawn chair cheerfully.

                “You don’t think I’ll look good with a tan?”

                Tim cringed further into his small corner of shade. Kon wasn’t even using sunblock!

                “You already have a tan,” Tim pointed out. “You look good enough already.”

                And crap. Tim didn’t mean to say that out loud. Kon just smiled.

                “I do look good, don’t I?” Kon preened slightly. “But seriously, I just need some sun. I’m totally zapped.”

                Tim almost forgot. Kon was half Kryptonian. But it didn’t mean he had to parade around in his birthday suit. Tim still couldn’t turn his eyes away as Kon rolled over onto his stomach. That was a good looking ass, highlighted by golden rays.

                Kon propped his head up with one arm. “You should join me. You’re way too white and pale. Like a ghost. Boo~”

                He wriggled his fingers in tandem with the mock ghost sound.

                “I burn. Easily,” Tim replied. He could feel the heat creeping in, stifling and warm even in the shade.

                “Two words,” Kon said, holding up two fingers. “Sun. Block.”

                “It’s one word,” Tim responded flatly. Why did Kon’s skin look so shiny and lickable? “I’m fine sitting here.”

                “Yeah,” Kon retorted. “You’re just here for the show.”

                And Tim flushed brightly as Kon flexed his muscles. It was a damn good show too.


	17. Domestic

Tim carefully sliced the carrots. Slowly because he wasn't a master chef and he didn't want to cut himself. Kon was next to him, mixing ground pork and seasoning it.

"Smells good, doesn't it?" Kon asked him.

"I can only smell garlic."

Tim pushed the carrots into a bowl, setting it aside. Then, he picked up the onion.

"Only the garlic?" Kon frowned, and Tim paused, the onion half peeled. He nudged at Kon playfully with his elbow. "Only garlic unless you have a super smelling ability you haven't mentioned?"

"Jerk," Kon muttered with a light smile. He started forming the meat into tiny balls, and Tim felt a strange feeling as he watched Kon. He had the niggling feeling about this...Kon and him. Kon next to him. Just cooking.

Then, Tim dropped the onion, eyes watering. He didn't follow the thought further.

\----

Tim sat on the couch, and he looked up when Kon sauntered in.

"You're done with dishes?"

"Yup," Kon said slyly and pressed his hands on Tim's shoulders.

"Kon!"

And Kon grinned at the two wet handmarks on Tim's shoulders. Then, he sat on the arm of the couch.

"What are we watching?"

"Porn," Tim replied, flatly.

"Really?" Kon's eyes were wide. Tim snorted, "no."

He wrapped his arms around Kon's waist impulsively, tugging Kon down. Kon fell on his side, half squashing Tim.

"Hey!" Kon said, pretending to be angry. Tim just shrugged. He left one arm around Kon and with the other started the movie. They watched in relative silence, and Tim cherished the feeling of Kon snugged against him. Even if he was heavy. And he felt the same twinge he felt earlier. 

Then, a car on the screen exploded.

\----

At the end of the movie, Tim walked Kon to the window. He told Kon to say hi to Aunt Martha for him.

"And let me know when you get back," Tim reminded him.

"Dude, I'm not going to be kidnapped."

"Right," and Tim watched him fly off with a fond smile. The feeling was there again, and Tim went rigid. He finally realized what it was.

That he and Kon were acting like a domestic couple. That he enjoyed it. And they were pretty much dating without the entire dating feeling.


	18. Itch

               “Stop scratching it.”

                And Tim delivered a sharp slap to Kon’s wrist. Kon’s hand shot off his ankle at that. It went to his neck. He was covered from head to toe in green purple splotches, all over his skin.

                “But it’s itchy,” Kon complained, and he scratched earnestly at a particularly beyond itchy one on his neck. Tim slapped his wrist again.

                “Keep doing that, and I’ll keep slapping you.” Tim shook his head as Kon removed the hand reluctantly, trying not to fidget and scratch some more. “And who told you to catch the alien version of chicken pox anyway?”

                “Hey! How was I supposed to know?”

                Kon flopped onto his bed and moaned miserably. He never got sick!

                “You’re sick now,” Tim pointed out, and Kon grumbled to himself for saying that out loud. Then, “I just want to—argh—cut them off or something.”

                Tim sighed. “Just don’t scratch at it. You might get scars.”

                “Like the one on the back of your left shoulder?”

                Tim flushed. “Yes, exactly like that one.”

                He reached into his pocket and pulled out a medium sized jar.

                “Take off your shirt. Let’s see if this helps.”

                “What is it?” And Kon was wary as Tim came closer with the jar and its unknown contents. Tim rolled his eyes, pushing Kon flat on his stomach and pushing the edge of his shirt up.

                “Relax. I’m not going to kill you.”

                Tim uncapped the jar, two fingers dipping in to scoop a good amount of white cream. He spread the cream on Kon’s back.

                “How does that feel?”

                “Cold. Kind of nice,” Kon responded. He groaned, appreciating how Tim’s fingers worked the cream into his skin, into the itchiness that was slowly disappearing and…he was being lulled to sleep.

                “You’re the best,” Kon mumbled drowsily. Tim rolled his eyes. "I better not catch this from you. Who knows how it’ll affect a human?”


	19. Power Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ra's/Tim

"You must be desperate, Ra's. To have come to me."

And Tim sat back in his chair, sipping the tea that Ra's had poured. It was such a lovely tea. A tea with the taste of victory. Of someone else's defeat.

"Don't you dare presume to pity me, boy," and Ra's was struggling not to growl, containing his frustration. Of all things...

"Me?" Tim asked innocently. He set the cup of tea down with a light clink. Smoothly, he lifted one hand and tucked it beneath Ra's' chin, tilting it towards him. "I do not pity you, Ra's. I merely...enjoy how low you have fallen. To come to me."


	20. Dangerous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ra's/Tim

Sometimes, when Ra's looks at Tim, it's so easy to forget that Tim isn't so weak. Isn't as delicate as the songbird he would compared Tim to. To know behind those wide blue eyes, behind that flawless skin of porcelain white that Tim is dangerous. And during those times, Ra's has to struggle to remember that simple innocuous fact. So he's biting with his words, more severe, a little more unrefined, and it only brings the opposite effect. The tremble in the lower lip and the detective is just so weak and helpless in his grasp, and then Ra's has to fight or leave.

Because the minute Ra's forgets, he will lose Timothy and will never gain him back.


	21. Kon Singing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of tinyredbird's art.

“Clean shirt, new shoes and I don’t know where I am going to…”

Kon bobbed his head as he tugged on his jeans. He had the radio on, and he just loved this song. It was kind of nostalgic. He hadn’t heard this song in like forever! Kon zipped up and buttoned, and then he started tapping his hands on the dresser. He was still bobbing his head as he did his best to mimic the drum and repeat the beats.

“I don’t need a reason why,” Kon sang and spun around, “They come runnin’ just as fast as they can…”

He jerked his hips to one side, ran a hand through his hair, “…cause every girl is crazy ‘bout a sharp dressed man.”

At this point, Kon started air-guitaring and floating around his room. He was so into it, he almost missed Tim coming in. Tim just stared, amazed and confused as hell. Especially once Kon winked at Tim, ran a hand down his chest, half caressing himself and continued singing. He circled around Tim and crooned into Tim’s ear, “cause every girl is crazy ‘ bout a sharp dressed man.”

“You,” Tim began.

“Are hot,” Kon said. “I know. Everybody loves a sharp dressed man.”

“In jeans?” Tim questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“How about half naked?” Kon grinned and flexed his arm slightly. “Is it working?”

“No.” Tim replied without hesitation.

“Aw, come on.” Kon said. He gestured at himself. “Just look at this.”

Tim’s eyes traveled up and down Kon’s body. “Well, I might just be a little…if you get yourself in a suit, then we can start talking.”


	22. Pretend and Kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tim/Cassie, Kon.
> 
> Based off fragileicile's Tim/Cassie kissing pic set.

Her kisses were not Kon's, but he  _could_  pretend. Tim could definitely pretend. He was always good at that. He has practice anyway. Whenever his parents went off to this country or that, and he was all alone, Tim pretended. Imagined another life for himself. One where he was the sole hero or adventurer out to conquer the world. It worked long enough to help him fall asleep. So, it wasn't even an effort to pretend. To pretend that her kisses were Kon's.

It was also just as easy to pretend that he even had Kon in the first place. Because he didn't. Not in that way. Everything was pretending.

Then, it  _wasn't_.

Somewhere along the way, her kisses stopped being  _his_  kisses but  _hers_. And it right and wrong in that strange grey way. Tim tried to rationalize it at first. It didn't work. But at that point, they were already too far gone, and he stopped pretending. It really was  _her_ , and even if everything was still sad, broken and unending, it was okay. They didn't have to be Kon to each other, and he didn't have to pretend.


	23. Flash heat Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off Meeya's headcanon.

“This is your fault.”

Tim quirked an eyebrow as he passed Kon some napkins. “Mine?”

“Yeah.” Kon took the napkins, dabbing at his shirt furiously. The coffee stain didn’t budge. At least Kon couldn’t actually get scaled by the hot liquid.

“I’m not the one who tried to flash heat the coffee,” Tim replied. He pushed his chair in, striding to their room. “I told you before—“

“The cup will crack, yeah, I know. Only about a hundred times.” Kon said, following him. “And it’s still your fault.”

“After a hundred times?” Tim asked, amused. He slid open the closet door and started rifling for a clean shirt. “And we’re going to be late.”

“That’s why it’s your fault,” Kon said empathically. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. “Telling me we got to hurry.”

Tim held a cream yellow shirt up to Kon’s chest. Kon looked at it in distaste. “I’m not wearing yellow.”

“It’s a good color,” Tim said. “It’s not even bright. Very soft and—“

“I’m not wearing yellow,” Kon repeated. He reached into the closet and yanked out a red shirt. Tim took it out of his hands, pushed the closet door closed and leaned against it. He held the yellow shirt in front of Kon.

“You’re wearing yellow.”

Kon huffed. “I can move you out of the way easy.”

Tim smirked, “You’re wearing it. We’re already late.”

Kon stared at the shirt. It was the most evil looking thing on earth.

“Tick tock,” Tim said. Kon sighed and plucked it out of Tim’s hands.

“Why me?” He moaned.

“Don’t flash heat the coffee next time.”


	24. Tired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of aionyu's kissing gif (Tim in uternet costume kissing Kon).

Kon groaned into the kiss, mouth open and tongue left wanting as Tim pulled away. He was a bit weary, but that was okay because Tim was sliding a hand over the curve of his jaw to the neck and down his chest. And Kon’s hands weren’t idle either. They moved a bit sluggishly, teasing, while Tim did that, his palm and fingers dancing from ass to edge of thin hip. They had fallen into bed, exhausted and after another minute of making out and general petting, Tim’s forehead landed on Kon’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

“I’m sorry, but I’m really tired.”

His voice was muffled and apologetic as he tucked his head further into Kon’s neck. Kon brought an arm up, hand landing on Tim’s head gently.

“Yeah?” He murmured. “I’m kind of tired too.”

“Good,” and Tim’s voice sounded a bit sleepy.

“Hm,” Kon hummed.

“Tomorrow then?” Tim asked, settling more firmly against Kon.

“In the morning,” Kon agreed. He tugged lightly at Tim’s belt with his other hand. “You might want to take this off though.”

“Forget it, let’s just sleep.”

“’kay,” and Kon was fine closing his eyes, Tim’s weight comforting and warm.


	25. Watering Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim, Kon, Skinny-dipping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from someone...

"I don't know about this," Tim voiced uncertainly. He stared at the "pond" as Kon called it with misgiving. In Tim's opinion, it was really more of a watering hole. A dried up watering hole. He suppressed a shudder as Kon casually stuck his hand in the water.

"It's perfectly fine," Kon commented, inspecting the water running down his hand back to the watering hole. "Though it is dried up a little from the heat wave that rolled in last week. But there's still plenty of water."

"Kon, it's  _green_."

And Tim was sure it wasn't his imagination. He could practically feel the germs crawling over his skin. Not to mention, the entire left side looked as if it was attacked by a giant mold monster. It was way too mossy and murky for Tim's comfort.

"It's just the light," Kon waved off. "See for yourself."

Tim braced himself, moving closer to the edge of the water. Kon scooped up a handful of water and...

"Okay," Tim said begrudgingly. "But I maintain there may be things in there which we can't -- are you  _drinking_  that?"

Tim was horrified, but Kon smiled and licked his lips.

"It's safe," Kon said cheerfully. "Tastes as fresh as I remember."

"Easy for you to say," Tim grumbled. "You're half Kryptonian. I doubt it'll be safe for me. I'll probably get cholera."

"Right," Kon scoffed. He stripped off his shirt. "It's just right for swimming though."

"I think you're insane," Tim declared. Kon quirked an eyebrow at him. "You're the kettle right now, Tim."

"It's pot," Tim sniped back as Kon removed his boots. He glanced at the water, at Kon and back at the water. He was definitely not going into  _that_.

Splash!

"Hell yeah," Kon groaned blissfully. "That's what I'm talking about."

He gestured at the water with wide arms. "Come on in."

"I'll decline, thank you," Tim refused. He perched on a relatively clean looking rock, jutting slightly over the water. Kon paddled a little and headed up the watering hole where it became a stream.

"Tim?" Kon called out. "You should see this."

"See what?"

"There's actually a fish! Or at least I think it's a fish."

Tim blinked. There was a fish? That might not be a fish? He examined the water again and cringed.

"I"'ll pass," Tim replied.

"Aw, come on," Kon whined. "I thought you wanted to swim."

"In a swimming pool," Tim clarified, but he got up and slowly moved upward to Kon.

"In Smallville?" Kon asked. "You're joking."

"Are you  _naked_?!" Tim half squawked as Kon came into view. In the shallow water where Kon was sprawled, Tim could see the meta's cock sticking out of the water slightly. Tim blushed and turned around.

"It's called skinny dipping for a reason," Kon answered, amused.

"I should leave," Tim muttered to himself. "I'll be better off doing pa--ack!"

With a slight pull of TTK, Kon had tugged Tim into the water. Tim squirmed as Kon held him tight and spluttered at the water entering his mouth.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Kon questioned, calmly. 

Tim could feel the water soaking his clothes, and he was uncomfortably pressed against Kon who was all heat to the water's cool.

"No," Tim sighed reluctantly. It wasn't so bad now that he was in the water. As long as he  _didn't_  think about it.

"All right," Kon exclaimed. He started pulling at Tim's shirt. "Now, let's get you out of this and we'll have you skinny dipping in no time."


	26. Don't Be Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batboys prank Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt...

               “Tt,” Damian sneered. “What is the purpose of this?”

                He studied the needlessly complicated contraption with distaste. Dick had gone out of his way to needle Damian into coming down to at least see, if not participate, in a “project” he was working on. Dick had even introduced it to Damian with an obscenely wide overdramatic gesture.

                “Purpose?” Dick echoed and pinched his cheeks, unfazed by Damian’s lack of enthusiasm. “It’s called having fun. And  _you_  are going to help me.”

                “Refrain from touching me,” Damian scowled, resisting the urge to rub his cheeks. “Your idea of entertainment is a fruitless endeavor in which we try not to murder each other before dinner.”

                “Agreed,” Tim interjected before Dick could speak. He was fiddling with some gears.

                “My idea of fun would be fun if you would all just sit down peacefully,” Dick complained loudly. “And this is family time! Damian, you should stay.”

                Tim grabbed a wrench. “If he doesn’t want to help, just leave him out of it.”

                Damian frowned as Tim tightened a bolt. “If I were to help, I will be of much more assistance than you.”

                Tim glared at him. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “Dick, do we have everything?”

                Dick was testing the sturdiness of the contraption by jumping and doing flips on it.

                “We do now,” a voice said. “And fifty says I knife one of you by the end of this.”

                “Jason!” Dick exclaimed brightly. “You’re back!”

                He leaped down and tried to hug him, but Jason side stepped Dick. He dumped a large brown bag on the table.

                “What are you doing here?” Damian demanded to know.

                “I was invited,” Jason said, rolling his eyes as Dick said, “I asked him.”

                Tim looked at Jason thoughtfully. “Make it a hundred. For the knifing.”

                “Stop it you guys,” Dick ordered. “There will be no—“

                “You’re pathetic, Drake.” Damian scoffed. Dick looked at the youngest Robin in shock. “Thank you, little D for agree—“

                “ _Five hundred_.”

                “Damian!”

                “Shake on it?” Jason asked, extending his hand. Tim was affronted. “Do I look stupid to you?”

                “I’m not going to stab you while I seal the deal,” Jason answered. “And yes, you’re stupid.”

                 “He has more class than you,” Damian snorted and shook Jason’s hand. Tim pursed his lips, but he shook Jason’s hand as well.

                “There will be no knifing of anyone!” Dick shouted, annoyed by the sudden agreement. He winced slightly as three pairs of eyes landed on him sharply.

                “You should be grateful,” Damian informed him.

                “We’re  _all_  here together, aren’t we?” Jason asked. There was a slight pause.

                “You bribed him, didn’t you?” Tim accused Dick. “Why else would he be here so willingly?”

                Jason whistled as Dick said indignantly, “I didn’t!”

                “Do you want my help or not?” Damian questioned. “If not, I’m leaving. I have better things to do.”

                “No, don’t go!” Dick latched onto Damian. “We need you.”

                Damian squirmed. “Unhand me, Grayson!”

                “We have forty five minutes and thirty six seconds left,” Tim announced. He got up, brushed his knees and tossed the screwdriver at Jason. “Let’s ante up.”

                Dick gaped at them. “What?”

                “Oh?” Jason smirked and caught the screwdriver. He twirled it in his hand. “What do you have in mind?”

                “Avoid Dick’s hugs for the next hour while we work.”

                “Aw, come on!” Dick whined, squeezing Damian. “You can’t do that!”

                “I’m in concurrence,” Damian added and jerked himself from under Dick’s arm. “Six hundred?”

                “One thousand,” Tim set. They quickly shook hands as Dick looked on unhappy.

                “Why me?”

                “Punishment,” Tim replied.

                “B—“ Dick started and broke off, ducking as knife came flying towards him. It was embedded into the wall.

                “J-Jason!” he spluttered.

                “I want my five hundred,” Jason smirked.

                “I’m not even involved!” Dick protested.

                “I swore I’ll knife one of you, Dickie Bird.”

                Tim knocked on the contraption. “Can we finish this first? There’s only forty one minutes left, and you can stab him while we work.”

                “I’ve the worst brothers ever,” Dick grumbled. He picked up the bag Jason brought and started rooting through it.

\--------------------

“That  _was_  worth it,” Damian concluded. They were watching a video feed. Dick acted as decoy and, within no time, Bruce was successfully tricked. On the screen, Bruce was whirled through a bunch of slides and into different obstacles. It was a stellar mouse trap contraption.

“I have it saved and backed up,” Tim mentioned.

“Give me a copy,” Jason said. Then, “What is Dick doing?”

Dick was talking to an angry Bruce.

“Aw shit!” Jason cursed. “He’s pinning it all on us.”

Tim hurriedly started shutting down the video and programs on the screen, erasing. “Let’s get o—ugh!”

“Five hundred,” Jason shouted as he bolted. “You got my address!”

“You bastard,” Tim growled, clutching his side where a knife was jabbed in.

“Too busy erasing to even noticed that, Tt.” Damian admonished and shoved Tim onto the floor, running. “You deserve to be caught.”

Tim hissed and pulled himself up into a stand hurriedly. It was too late. Bruce loomed over him, covered in sticky glittery pink goo.

“Uh…”

It sucks to be a middle child.


	27. Collector's Jackpot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim collects Superboy memorabilia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt...

 Tim glared at the screen. It was a fruitless effort because Sup3Rb0Y43v3R_01 didn’t disappear from the webpage nor did he (she?) stopped bidding. Every time Tim entered a new amount, Sup3Rb0Y43v3R_01 made a counter offer. All the other bidders were already long scared off by the intensity mounting over the last hour and a half. And Tim still wasn’t able to get the Five Limited Superboy Deluxe plates. Currently, it was at $1032 with sixteen minutes to go before the auction closed, and he was determined to get his hands on it. Swiftly, he tapped in $1500…

                “What?!” Tim half screeched when the refreshed page finished loading. The newest bid was $1550 from SupERb0Y43v3R_01. Tim quickly tapped at his keys furiously, “ _three thousand_.”

                “Three thousand for what?” Kon’s voice drifted to him from the entrance of the kitchen. Tim jerked, slamming his laptop closed. His eyes darted from Kon to the laptop and back to Kon.

                “Kon,” he breathed. “What’re you doing here?”

                “Uh…food?” Kon said, puzzled. Then he laughed. “Wait, did I just scare the great Red Robin?”

                Tim blushed, keeping the upper half of his body draped over his laptop. “No. I just wasn’t expecting you.”

                “Sure,” Kon grinned. “That’s why your heart was hammering.”

                “Just get your food,” Tim grumbled. Kon laughed again and moved toward the fridge. As he did so, Tim watched him with one eye and carefully cracked opened his laptop halfway. The amount was $3100 now and there was fifteen minutes left. Kon was busy making a sandwich, so Tim pushed his laptop all the way open and hurriedly typed in his next bid at $5000. Kon didn’t know about Tim’s avid collection of Superboy Memorabilia, and he’d like to keep it that way.

                “So, what about that three thousand?” Kon asked around a mouthful of bread, ham and lettuce. Tim jumped again, closing his laptop again. “What?”

                Kon gestured at his laptop. “Three thousand…?”

                “Uh, it’s nothing. Just…some things for work.”

                Kon made a face. “Work. You should take a break.”

                Tim shrugged carelessly. “In a bit.”

                Then for the next thirteen minutes, Tim agonized as Kon took his time eating and made his way through some ice cream in the fridge. He kept staring worriedly at his laptop, but he didn’t want to chance Kon seeing his screen.

                “You know you don’t have to watch me eat,” Kon said, amused. “I’m not going to kill you if you do work.”

                “Don’t worry about it!” Tim shook his head. With thirty four seconds to spare, Kon left and Tim nearly broke his laptop in his rush to beat the latest bid.

                He got it. It only cost him $8000.

                His happiness didn’t last long. There was a special plate that went with the five piece set, and only fifty were produced.

\--------------

                The alleyway was dark, creepy and completely comfortable because it was similar to Gotham in that respect, but Tim still looked around warily. He was in disguise, and he was waiting for his contact. Tim checked his time nervously, but no one appeared. Finally, after two more minutes and counting how many bricks were in the wall, someone shuffled into the alley.

                “You,” the man asked, “are—“

                “Yes,” Tim interrupted him. “Do you have?”

                The man reached into his trench coat and pulled out something in a black plastic bag.

                “You have the cash?” The man questioned. Tim took out a roll of bills.

                “I want to see first,” Tim demanded. The man obliged and undid the knot, giving Tim a peek into the bag. Tim nodded, satisfied, and he handed over the money. Then, the man left. And before Tim could hug the bag happily to his chest, something slammed into him.

                Tim punched back, but his eyes widen when he realized it was Superboy.

                “Kon!” Tim hissed. Kon stumbled, surprised. “Tim? I thought you were—“

                “Undercover,” Tim explained.

                “Oh,” Kon replied. “Sorry, did I—“

                “No,” Tim answered. He retrieved the bag from the ground and waved it in front of Kon’s face. “Got it.”

                Kon blinked. “Okay.”

                Tim started walking off, clenching the bag tightly in his hands. “Let’s go.”

                That was the last time he was going to try and collect a Superboy figurine under the pretense of patrol. Or in Jump City for that matter.

\-------

                “Kon!”

                Tim hid a Superboy plushie behind his back. He cursed mentally to himself. How could he forget that Kon was coming over?

                “My room’s a mess,” Tim apologized, moving with his back to the wall. Kon looked around. “You’re joking, right? This is so clean, I think I dirty it just by standing here.”

                “You dirty it in more ways than one,” Tim commented and, as Kon gaped, he opened his closet door a slit and tossed in the plushie.

                “Sounds like an idea,” Kon grinned. “What do you have in mind?”

                Tim shut the closet door firmly. “Why don’t you come find out?”

\---------

                After his patrol, Tim fell onto his bed with a tired sigh. It was lumpy. Tim wriggled and pulled out a wrapped package from underneath him. There was a note attached:

_Pulling a bat. Here’s something no one has besides you for your collection, you stalker. Kon._

                Tim’s fingers shook and opened the package to find one of Kon’s Superboy t-shirt. Busted.


	28. Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love you.

'I can do this. I can do this,' Tim chanted in his head. He swallowed hard and determinedly lifted his head to look at Kon. And Kon was...wow. With the sunlight and his hair and everything; Tim faltered, the words lost in his throat.

"You okay?" Kon asked him, concerned. Tim nodded dumbly. He turned his head away, staring off to the side, anywhere besides Kon. He couldn't do this.

A warm arm draped around his shoulder, and Tim looked at its owner involuntarily.

"Uh, Kon..."

Kon just laughed, squeezed him gently, saying, "You're thinking so hard, you look constipated."

Tim squawked and spluttered at that, offended. He lightly swatted Kon in the chest. Kon laughed again and pulled Tim into a hug.

"So, what are you thinking about?" He whispered. Tim flushed. He couldn't meet Kon's eyes and concentrated on the S shaped shield on Kon's shirt. He sighed and pressed his forehead against Kon's chest, fingers splayed on Kon's side, mumbling.

"Why is it so easy for you?"

"What?" And Tim could feel the vibration of the word through his forehead. He cringed slightly and tightened his fingers on Kon's shirt. "Um..."

And Kon was waiting, so Tim took a deep breath. 'I can do this. I can do this.'

"I...," and Tim faltered again. He groaned, frustrated, ranting. "Damnit! Why is it so hard? Why is it so easy for you to say I love you, and it's so hard for me to say it? That I love you?"

Kon chuckled and hugged Tim harder. "Are you listening to yourself?"

Tim's mouth snapped closed. Oh...


	29. Gotham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Babybirdsblue's prompt.

Tim stood high above Gotham, precariously on a crumbling gargoyle. The night was as dark as it ever was, soaked with the flavors that only Gotham could provide with all her secrets, mysteries and age. His heart twisted as he looked over her, the only lady that ever consumed Tim. And he closed his eyes, breathing in her breath, taking it as his own. Everything was building up, and Tim was honestly considering leaving. He wanted to run away, and give up being Red Robin. It wasn’t as if he had much here. He wasn’t needed. Then, unbidden, something came to him as if Gotham chose to bestow on Tim a blessing.

_Here my heart broke, ne’er travelling to where my body rests._

The words rolled around in Tim’s mind, and he wasn’t sure where he heard it. He repeated it out loud, “Here my heart broke, ne’er travelling to where my body rests”. It was unfamiliar, strange and foreign on his tongue, but despite the oddity, the words were right. He repeated it once more, unable to resist the strange pull, the magnetic feelings brought on and enhanced by it.

“Here my heart broke, ne’er travelling to where my body rests.”

And as Tim said those words, he knew. He realized with a sudden force exactly what Gotham was to him, with more clarity than he ever had.

He could not leave. Even if his heart was broken. Gotham was his heart.


	30. Best Date Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to "Because Kon's a Nightwing Fanboy"

“Shh! Be quiet,” Tim hissed as Kon made a slight squeal.

“But I can’t help it,” Kon said, lowering his voice appropriately. “I mean, just look at  _that_!”

In the distance, Nightwing was swinging past some buildings, long limbs, slender and beautiful. Tim looked, really looked, and he groaned quietly to Kon.

“I know,” he moaned. “His ass is perfection. But we got to keep quiet.”

“I know that.”

Tim tugged at Kon’s hair gently. “No, you don’t. You’re not a bat like I am.”

He was sitting on Kon’s back while Kon floated flat on his stomach, eyes sharply and keenly focused on Nightwing.

“Hey!” Kon protested. And Tim whapped him on the head for the noise.

“Quiet,” he said. “And you said you know.”

Kon rubbed his head. It didn’t really hurt. Made of steel and all, but still.

 “I do. And I might as well be considering our relationship.”

“You’re still talking,” Tim said. And he pointed his arm at Nightwing who was fast moving away, the distance stretching. “Now, hurry. Otherwise, we’re going to lose him. He can disappear really fast.”

Kon grumbled, but he swiftly darted after the man. Tim wrapped his legs more securely around his back and stomach, interlocking his ankles. And he could hear the faintest hint of the gears in the camera turning as Tim quickly captured shots. Kon just knew they were going to be wonderful to look at once developed.

“Tim,” he said, remembering to keep his voice low.

“Yeah?”

And Tim looked down at Kon whose face was craned over his shoulder slightly.

“This is the best date you have ever suggested ever.”

Tim smiled and pushed Kon’s head back, and Kon narrowly avoided hitting the upcoming skyscraper.

“I know,” Tim said, and as they continued to trail after Nightwing he pressed a soft kiss to Kon’s cheek.

“Let’s get the best pictures ever.”

 


	31. Liar

He’s a liar and he knows it. He knows it deep down in his heart. Because you can always lie to others, but you can’t lie to yourself. And believe him, Tim has tried. And he is so good at it that he can almost prove that adage wrong and lie to himself.

That was okay. It was always okay when it was just him. But Kon was a different thing. Kon was a second person. Another variable added to the mix. And Kon was just so good, too good. Tim isn’t lying when he loves Kon. That’s the truth. He loves Kon. But he lies about everything else because he can. Because he sometimes can’t help himself.

Tim thinks Kon knows. Knows it even when Tim does it so well. That was probably instinct. And he knows it won’t end well. So, he lies the best lies he can for Kon. Tells Kon that there is no us and that whatever they had was just because they both needed comfort. That Kon should go chase that pretty girl he met the other day they were out.

Because Tim’s a liar. And he can’t bring himself to pull Kon into his web of lies.


	32. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim knows his duty.

               Tim doesn’t want to hear it. That he isn’t good enough. That he isn’t enough. Or that he was wrong. When he’s so loyal. Have given everything. Has given everything. He has nothing left to himself but duty and that is all for him too.

                So he storms out. Throws the door open with a wide bang. And Bruce is speechless. Stares. And Tim doesn’t stop. Keep walking.

                But he  _feels_  it. Every word that Bruce doesn’t say. Colliding into his back.

                It reminds him, Tim thinks, of his father. How he once said, “as soon as I’m old, you’ll leave me in a nursing home to rot and die. I know you will.”

                And Tim wants to laugh. Because he wouldn’t. He couldn’t do it. Can't do it. Not when it screams down to his core duty.

                That’s what it is now. The same scene. With Bruce. Except it’s not a nursing home. But the streets of Gotham.

                Tm walks away. Yes, he does. But he knows he’s coming back. Because he can’t help it. If he doesn’t, it’ll fester and grow and  _nags_  till Tim  _needs_  to go back.

                His duty. And Bruce doesn’t get it. Doesn't understand, but that’s okay. Tim gets it. Knows it. Breathes it.

                He is back even as he leaves.


	33. Faceless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is horrified to see Tim's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that's just a little horror...

 

"Oh my god, Tim!"

And Tim turns. Smiles at Dick's horrified expression. Smiles in a curve of shadow that really isn't.

"Hello," he says, and Dick is still at the door. Rooted. Because Tim didn't have a face. Like the Question, but it was all--

"Did you hurt yourself? What happened?" And Dick is frantic, worried. Because it was gone. Wasn't there. He takes a stride and a half to Tim's side. To touch that not there cheek, but Tim stops him. Shaking his head.

"Nothing happened," and Dick is relieved. At the levelness in Tim's voice. Because that's Tim. How he speaks. Yet...

"But your face. It's all--"

"Gone?" Tim interrupts. His laugh is low, awkward and he points, gestures to his desk with a wave of hand. "It isn't."

And there on the desk is Tim's face. The skin lying without eyes, flat and thin and dead. Dick stares. He has seen stranger things, but this was different.

"I'm not in pain, Dick." Tim says when Dick opens his mouth to speak. He is amused, and it wasn't right. "This is normal. I never had, well, my own to begin with. Look."

Dick watches. Watches as Tim pries out his eyes, the blue irises shrinking at the yellow desk light, and down they settled in a jar of liquid.

"You--what are you, Tim?" He asks. Because that shouldn't be possible.

"I don't know," and Tim laughs again. "Just a replacement."

Dick feels chills on his back because it shouldn't be. He wants to argue that Tim isn't, but Tim is laughing, laughing, laughing.


	34. Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I have is silliness in my head. >

"Stop it, Dick," Tim ordered as he rubbed his temple. His head hurt, and Dick wasn't helping the matter by pacing and storming. Bruce was stone faced, unreadable, keeping a careful watch over Ra's who was tied and bound. Although Tim knew it would be just so easy for the villain to slip out of it and escape. It was only because of their present predicament that Ra’s didn’t.

“But this is Ra’s we’re talking about here,” Dick wailed. He was all arms and legs, clinging to Tim, disturbed. Reasonable given that Tim himself was more than disturbed.

“We couldn’t come up with anything better?” He continued, and Tim sighed, giving up on the headache. No chance of it going away now.

“Honestly, this was the best choice. Zatanna checked it out already—it’s fine.”

Dick groaned, hands in his hair. “Okay, how about transferring it to me?”

“The bond is already set,” Bruce replied. “You can’t do anything without it possibly killing Tim.”

“No, we would not want to kill, Timothy. He is far too valuable to die.”

They all shot a look at Ra's for that.


	35. Superbear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim leaves Kon for Superbear.

Kon had to do a double take when he came into Tim’s room. There on Tim’s bed was a teddy bear. It had a red cape, a blue t-shirt and, more importantly, his S shaped logo on it. Which was beyond weird because Tim wasn’t one for cute cuddly things.

“You have a bear,” Kon said in disbelief. He pulled the bear to him with his TTK, examining the brown fur, the eyes and the logo. Especially the logo.

“So I do,” Tim said amused. Kon stared at the bear some more. “It has my symbol on it.”

“So it does,” and Tim plucked the bear out Kon’s hands, tucking it neatly beneath his arms as he typed away on his laptop.

“Uh, why?” Not that Kon didn’t like it. He was all for Tim owning anything with his symbol. Tim was super sexy whenever he wore Kon’s shirt.

“It’s your replacement,” Tim teased. He patted the bear on the top of its head. “Isn’t that right, Superbear?”

And Tim was half cooing at the stuffed animal as Kon choked in amazement and at the thought of being replaced by a stupid teddy bear.

“My replacement?”

Tim nodded, arms wrapped around the bear, a hand playing with the edge of the bear’s red cape. “Your replacement.”

Kon eyed the bear. “It doesn’t look like it can match up to me.”

“Kon, it’s Superbear!” Tim smiled. “It can even beat Krypto.”

“Right,” Kon drawled. “I’m sure it can.”

Tim held up the bear and waved its miniature arms in the air.

“He has very good ears,” and he nuzzled his nose against one worn furry ear.

“Better than me?” Kon tapped his foot and looked up at the ceiling, preening.

“Better than you,” Tim answered.

“Okay.” Kon shrugged. He did an about face and started walking. “Have fun with Superbear.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Tim hurried into the hall, bear still in hand.

“To find me a Batbear since my boyfriend left me for a Superbear.”


	36. Learn to Knock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick still doesn't know about Tim and his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Lectorel's piece on tumblr which added more. Go check it out. You will need it to understand this. You can also find the link to it on my tumblr page under the faceless!Tim Verse.
> 
> A continuation of Faceless.

Dick thinks he knows. Understands. How Tim wasn’t. That Tim wasn’t, but Tim was theirs and never a replacement. And when he sees Tim next to him, he thinks it was all a dream. That Tim had no face. That Tim laughed with a shadow face and hollow eyes.

Because it was impossible that Tim couldn’t be real. When he looked real. Felt real. Swinging from rooftops and so very there. Speaking to Alfred, snarking with Damian. No evidence of the shadow face and hollow eyes. He bleeds when cut by sharp thorns from Ivy and cries when Dick corners him to watch Titanic.

And that may be the problem. That Tim appeared real enough to the point.

So when he sees Tim, enters the room without knocking because he wants to surprise—to shower Tim in cuddles and love, he realizes he doesn’t know. Doesn’t understand. Not by a long shot.

Two half Tims are before him. Two shadows, ghosts, whispers and wisps of immaterial. One stands with Tim’s face, arms, hands, chest. Looking startled. The other has no expression, having only feet, legs, muscled thighs.

He gapes. A sheet of skin in the hands of Tim with a face. This one doesn’t laugh. Lips serious and calm.

“You need to learn how to knock before entering.”

And calmly, he wraps that skin around the other Tim, giving him a pelvis, a stomach. Dick doesn’t know how to answer. What to say.

A voice, soft and breezy, laughs. The laugh that Dick heard in that not dream of Tim and his shadow face and hollow eyes.

Dick stares. He watches.

Watch as the Tim with a face undo himself, settling skin onto the other. Watch as the Tim with the shadow face and hollow eyes appear except for hands.

And when the face is completed, when the hands are done, each finger smoothed and patted with shadow, Tim stands before him. Laughing. Just laughing.

“He is right. You really do need to learn how to knock.”


	37. Not Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim doesn't want to get married.

He knew Kon would ask, and the answer wasn’t yes. And Tim wanted to say yes. Because Kon was down on his knees, ring in hand, eyes looking up into Tim’s eyes expectantly, earnestly, and Tim just couldn’t. He couldn’t and he said it.

“No.”

And then he choked on the word’s aftermath, the syllable long gone but still stuck in his throat, a forever ghost of rejection. His fingers shook as Kon stared, and Tim just waited for it. For the damn recoil and for Kon to go off shouting, but all Kon asked was, “what?” Because he was confused and Tim didn’t want that because he knows he has to say it again. That two letter wreck and Tim just couldn’t. To see the disappointment on Kon’s face and to know he was the cause. The reason, and still Tim’s fingers shook and trembled as he said it again. Because he had to.

“No.”

This time Kon wasn’t confused. His face was—oh, and Tim grasped Kon’s hand. The one without the ring.

“I-I-can’t we just stay like this? Why do we have to get married?”

“You don’t want to?”

And Tim kept his grasp tight, tighter because Kon could handle it. Because Kon dreamt of getting married, spoke of it, described it and he tried to breathe and answer but his throat was closing and, and—

“Tim,” and Kon was wrapping his arms around him, enclosing the sunshine warmth he didn’t deserve. He heard the ring dropped to the floor with a clatter, wanted to cry at it, and Kon was rubbing his back, soothing.

“Breathe. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

“No! I just—“ and Tim breathed in sharply through his nose, the sudden intake of air jolting him to clarity. It wasn’t okay but Tim still…

“I love you. I really do. I just don’t want to marry you.”

Kon’s hand stopped rubbing, the dreadful sentence out in the open. He didn’t move as Kon jerked him into position, to look at each other’s eyes deep, invasive and so intimately raw. No masks. Only eyes, plain and just like that, the window to the soul. His hands, free now, trembled more, quaking. At Kon’s blue eyes. At Kon’s pained blue eyes. At what he read so clearly in them.

“If you love me, why won’t you marry me?”

“Oh, Kon…”

And Tim had to close his eyes. So he wouldn’t see it. The look in Kon’s eyes because he was a coward. And so afraid. To lose Kon over this but he just couldn’t and he probably would lose Kon.

“I’m scared,” he blurted out. “I don’t want to get married because I—“

Images rapidly came of his parents. Of Dana. Of Green Arrow and Canary. What he heard about Dick and Starfire—what he knew of Bruce and Talia and all the relationships that existed in the superhero community. And then his own insecurities and fears on the outer edge, skimming the backdrop.

“It won’t work. If we get married, we won’t be…”

Tim couldn’t say it. Out loud. Because that was just as bad as thinking it but he couldn’t help but think it.

That marriage would ruin it. The love he had for Kon, and Kon had for him.

“Just no. No, Kon. I can’t.”


	38. Yes, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to "Not Yes"

Tim pushed but Kon kept him enclosed in sunshine warmth, heat soaking and hot. It burned through Tim, scorching in his guilt, at not being able to say "yes",but Kon just wouldn't let him go. Kept his hold tighter. Stronger.

He heard Kon sigh, Kon's chin resting on the top of his head in a soft weight.

"Let's try this again," Kon murmured, voice still pained. And Tim wished he could shrink. Because the answer wasn't going to change, wasn't going to be "yes", and it didn't even matter if he wanted it to be "yes" -- because it just wasn't.

There was a shift in the air of Kon's TTK moving. The ring on the floor was lifted invisibly, suspended in the air, light catching. Tim nearly flinched as the ring came closer. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kon shushed him. The ring dropped into Kon's hand, and Kon slipped it onto Tim's finger --

"K-Kon?"

Tim's voice cracked at the feel of it against his skin. The band was smooth, cool and it felt so right, so good on his hand. As if it belonged there from the start and no where else. As if it should have been there since forever.

"Do you think I don't know you, Tim?" Kon asked, keeping his hand on Tim's, thumb over the ring. "I haven't been with you for this long without picking up on your wigging out over every little thing."

And Tim couldn't breathe. Because Kon actually wasn't pained but stubbornly thickheaded.

"You can't chase me away, Tim. So, say yes, please. Call it an engagement or whatever -- it doesn't matter. I can wait."

Kon looked down at Tim, hopeful, steady and so grounded that Tim couldn't have flied away if he was a balloon. Tim's thoughts clouded him for a second, but he did wanted Kon. Even with all his fears and "Yes, please."

Yes for Kon. Please for everything that Kon was, that Tim needed, wanted and love.


	39. Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon doesn’t understand why Tim wants to go to a beach.

“You want to go to the beach,” Kon said skeptically as Tim nodded his head. 

“Seriously, the beach. You want to go to the beach. Right now?”

“Yes, the beach,” Tim replied, rolling his eyes impatiently. “Is that so hard to understand?”

Kon looked at Tim. Stared at him. And he slowly enunciated, “you hate the beach. Remember?”

Tim waved a hand dismissively, not quite meeting Kon’s eyes. “Only because I didn’t have sunscreen.”

Kon stared at Tim some more, like really stared at him, completely perplexed by his boyfriend’s sudden desire to go to the beach.

“You complained for an entire week,” Kon said. “And—“

He made a motion with his hand. Tim, who was on the verge of protesting, obediently closed his mouth at that.

“Don’t, Tim. I remember. Because I didn’t get sex that entire week and the week after. Do you know how hard that was?”

And it was freaking hard. It didn’t help that Tim looked so sexy (all the time) and Kon was starting to get hard just thinking about that and oof—maybe he really was just a hornball.

Tim rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well, you did let Bart poke me all over.”

“I couldn’t stop him even if I didn’t try,” Kon replied. “You know Bart.”

“Kon. I was burnt all over. Crispy. Like a cookie left too long in the oven.”

This was where Kon had to make his point. “Right. So, I don’t get it. Why do you want to go to the beach?”

“To bury you in the sand and leave you there?”

“Tim.”

“Can’t you just take me to the beach? No questions asked?”

Kon sighed. And Tim was looking at him so sad, pouty face and cute. It was impossible to ignore.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Just point the way.”

And Kon scooped Tim into his arms, already speeding up to the clouds. It wasn’t until Kon followed Tim’s directions that he realized Tim was directing them to a very familiar beach. One in Hawaii. His beach.

“Tim?”

“Got a luau planned,” Tim smirked. “We’re just in time too. Happy anniversary.”


	40. Don't mess up my nailpolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has an undercover mission?

“Don’t touch me,” Tim warned from his chair as soon as Kon came in.

“Why? Did you get into one of Ivy’s new toxins?” Kon asked a worried expression crossing his face. He scanned Tim’s body quickly with his eyes. He didn't find anything though.

“No. I just did my nails.” Tim flashed his hands at Kon. His nails were colored a deep purple.

Kon raised an eyebrow, and he slowly took in the various bottle of nail polish lined up neatly in two rows on Tim’s desk.

“Nails?”

“Undercover mission.” Tim shrugged. Then he jerked when he felt Kon’s hand sliding up his calf, under the knee. He laughed, jerking his leg away.

“Kon!” He was extremely ticklish there. And then his mouth went dry as the hand travelled up to his thigh.

“Did you shave too?” Kon’s voice was low and husky. He rubbed his fingers over the fabric of Tim’s slack as if he could feel Tim’s bared skin. Because Tim did shave his legs, made them smooth and silky.

“I—yes,” Tim answered, blushing. “Have to wear a skirt.”

“I see.” Kon pressed his hand down more firmly, and Tim sensing what Kon was up to said, “Not now, Kon. You’ll make me ruin my nails.”

“Then I guess you better keep still,” and Kon unbuttoned Tim’s pants with ease.


	41. Moody

Tim had been sitting in his chair, looking into space and slowly becoming a depressed figure with each minute that passed. Well, Kon wasn’t going to let Tim stay broody. He didn’t need another batman.

"You're moody," Kon commented as he bopped Tim on the head lightly. Tim glared at him, hand to his head at the slight smack. "Am not!"

“Are too,” and Kon bopped Tim on the head again. “Just look at this!”

He squished Tim’s cheeks together, tsking. “Your eyebrows are down in that angry v-shape. Your blue eyes are like ice, seriously! And—“ Kon stretched Tim’s lips—“look at this! What is this?”

Tim swatted away at Kon’s hands, pulling back. He rubbed his face, trying to get rid of the sensation.

“This thing is my mouth.”

“A non smiley mouth!” Kon declared.

“You mean an off limit mouth,” Tim shot back, but he was grinning now. Points for Kon.

“Never off limits,” Kon replied. “Not for me.”

And he pulled Tim into a kiss. Triple points for that.


	42. Garterbelt/Mohawk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim marvels at Kon's "garter belt" and mohawk. Two separate drabbles written on Skype.

Tim fingered the yellow belt around Kon's leg, and Kon's breath hitched in his throat at the feeling. "What are you doing?" "Just examining this," Tim said and slid a finger under the band. "I can't believe you have a garterbelt." "It's called fashion." Tim snorted then he smirked. "So if I take this off, do I get access to the goods?" "You wish," but Kon's throat went dry as Tim undid the buckle with one hand.

\------

Tim stared. That Mohawk Kon was sporting was an atrocity. It was gelled upward, and the sideburns were—he couldn’t even describe it. There were curls poking out at the temples, and who the hell was Tim kidding? For a really bad hairdo, Tim couldn’t help but like it. Because of those damn curls. It looked so soft, so…so tender and cute popping out like that and he just wanted to touch it. Rub the fine strands of hair between his fingers, and Kon smirked at him. Flexing as he walked past Tim.


	43. Unwrap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kon unwraps a seemingly never ending round of boxes.

"Here," and Tim handed his present to Kon.There was a decidedly battish smirk to those lips that just made Kon both wary and excited.

"Thanks," Kon said. The present was pretty big in size, and Kon had to wonder what on earth Tim had gotten him. What could be that huge? Because Kon couldn't x-ray the box and be bam! I know what I got.

Tim's lips seemed to deepen into a further smirk at that as Kon gripped the present with excitement.

"Lead based paper," Tim had explained when Kon had tried earlier to peek at the box. "Had it specially developed for your eyes."

And now Kon was going to have the extreme pleasures of opening it. The pie, because it had to be pie and it had to be apple pie, was already eaten. And Kon was free to tear into the wrapping. He did so with gusto.

It revealed another box. And another. And another.

"What the hell, Tim?"

Tim just shrugged, the smirk still on his lips. "Consider this payment for all the other times before I managed to produce lead based wrapping paper."

Kon grumbled, but he dutifully continued unwrapping his present. When he reached the last box he found...

"It's empty?" Kon said in disbelief.He tipped the box upside down just to be sure. There really was nothing.

"Tim!"

Tim patted his pocket. "Right here, Kon."

There was a playful challenge in his eyes, and Kon barely had time think before Tim moved to run. Kon caught him in an instant.

"That isn't funny," Kon said and tickled Tim on the side. Tim laughed helplessly as Kon retrieved a small plain box from Tim's pocket. He flicked off the lid to find a ring.

And Kon was surprised. Because he was planning to propose to Tim for weeks without success.

"Um, Tim..."

Tim just smiled. "If I had left you to your own devices, you'll probably propose at the most inappropriate time. Probably while I'm fighting off Ra's or someone."

Kon groaned. Tim knew everything.

"So, marry me?" Tim asked.

"No,"Kon said. "Marry--"

Tim's communicator went off. Tim looked at Kon with a laugh.

"Told you so."


	44. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon apologizes

Tim had his hands on his hips. He was a little more than ticked off, but Kon could brave that. Because he made Tim angry. And also Tim looked way too hot being this mad. His cheeks were red and flushed with heat. Tim's hair was messy instead of its usual neatness from running his hands through them in frustration. And he was wearing a suit. The suit that just make Tim looked imposing, confident and dangerously handsome.

"Ah, come on, Tim. I said I was sorry." Kon tried to look as sincere as possible. And there, the corner of Tim's strained lips were slowly dropping in Kon's keen eyesight. "I'm sorry, I know it doesn't cover it. But I really do mean it."

And he darted forward to push Tim against the wall. "Please?"

That may have been the wrong move because Tim didn't appreciate being corner, but Tim's shoulders relaxed slightly. He looked at Kon with a frown.

"I'm letting you off this time."

Kon sighed in relief, but Tim added, "and only this time."

"That's okay," Kon mumbled. Tim wasn't mad anymore, and he still looked pretty hot. He pecked Tim on the lips.

"I'll make it up to you."

Tim shook his head in mirth. "You have to do better than that. One kiss isn't going to cut it."

"Oh?" Kon asked. "Then, let me try harder."

And he was kissing Tim, pressing him harder against the wall, catching the bottom of Tim's lips with his teeth, suckling on it gently before slipping his tongue into Tim's mouth.

Kon pulled back after a bit and smirked at the how red Tim's cheeks were.

Tim was panting slightly. 

"Still not good enough," he took Kon huskily.

"I wasn't finished," Kon said, and he proceeded to thoroughly make it up to Tim.


	45. Pandora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon is horrified by Tim’s chosen radio station

Kon stared in horror as Tim reached for his laptop.

"What are you doing?"

Tim looked at him, confused. "What? I'm opening my laptop?"

Kon shook his head, hands in the air. "I know that! Of course, you're opening your laptop! But--"

And he watched as Tim casually clicked onto the Pandora homepage.

"--no!"

Kon floated over and slammed the laptop shut.

"Absolutely not!"

"Kon! What are you doing?" Tim huffed. He tried to open his laptop, but Kon kept it firmly close.

"Because you're going to Pandora, and all your music is sad. Weepy and you're going to be sad. I'm not dealing with a sad you tonight."

Tim stared. "Seriously, Kon?"

Kon nodded his head solemnly. "Seriously."


	46. Just a porny-ish warm up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim/Kon

Normally, Tim can pretend he’s asexual. Or at the very least he doesn’t need sex. But today was not that day, and he was pulling Kon into a messy liplock before the meta had even finished slipping through the window.

Kon broke the kiss with an amused look. It made Tim half growl in frustration.

“Whoa—what was that?” Kon teased. “Did you take a dip in Ivy’s pollen or something?”

“No,” and Tim’s voice was clipped. He threaded his fingers in Kon’s hair, tugging him back down for another kiss. His tongue slid into Kon’s mouth before it dipped back out again, travelling down chin to suckle at the junction right where neck met shoulder.

“Just horny,” Tim said in a straight tone. Kon let out a low groan as Tim nipped at his skin, hard enough to feel it beneath his invulnerability.

“Really horny if you—“

And Kon groaned again because Tim was cupping him through his jeans.

“Shut up.”

Kon chuckled and Tim could feel the vibrations against his lips where he was still mouthing across Kon’s neck to collarbone.

“I was only gone for a week,” Kon said, hands sliding down to cup Tim’s ass and to squeeze it firmly. Tim jerked, hips half thrusting against Kon’s thigh, against his own hand trapped between them.

“A week too long,” Tim complained. Kon laughed again as he squeezed Tim’s buttocks once more.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t jerk off?”

“Not the same.”

“Because you needed me?” Kon smiled. Tim looked up at Kon with a slight scowl.

“Don’t get a big head.”

“You’re fueling it,” Kon pointed out. But he didn’t have any more words because Tim was working a hand into his jeans.


	47. Faith?

Tim didn't know how to handle this, how to handle the intensity of Kon's eyes boring into his, and how to handle this...could he call it loyalty?

He wanted to turn his head, focus on something else other than those unearthly blue irises but he was bracketed. Back to the wall and Kon's arms on either side, keeping him trapped. Kon seemed to sense it because he said, "don't you dare move."

So Tim didn't. Didn't and continued to looked into Kon's eyes.

"I'm not," he said simply.

"You know," Kon said, haltingly. "You are my Robin."

"I know," Tim said quietly and was startled to realized he couldn't read Kon's eyes.

"Do you?" Kon asked, and there was a faint heaviness in his shoulders that Tim glimpsed from the corner of his eyes. Kon sighed, a hand dropping from the wall to rest on Tim's cheek, thumb stroking across that smooth flesh.

"It doesn't seem like it sometimes," Kon continued. And a soft smile danced across Tim's lips.

"I'm not Batman. I have friends. I have you."

"If you know that, then don't shoulder everything alone," and Kon leaned in closer.

"I'll try not to."

That was true and honest. Because while Tim didn't know how to handle this, he did know what it was.


	48. Precautions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s October and Tim worries for Kon’s safety.

"All right," Kon said loudly. "I'm heading out."

He was heading over to the farm to help with the harvesting. It was Fall and it would be a lot faster if Kon was helping. However, Kon didn't expect to be bowled over by Tim in the hallway even if he did hear Tim's rushing feet.

"Sorry," Tim muttered, red faced. "I didn't mean to do that."

Kon just grinned and hauled Tim up closer to him till Tim was on his tip toes.

"You just want a good bye kiss, right?" Kon teased and brushed his lips over Ti's lightly. Tim blushed further as Kon set him back down gently.

"What--no," Tim stammered. "I mean, yes, I want a kiss and..."

Kon pressed a kiss to Tim's forehead. "Too bad we don't have time for more..."

Tim smacked him on the arm. "Not that!"

And Kon watched as Tim bit the bottom of his lip and reached into his pocket. Tim pulled out a necklace and held it out to Kon.

"For you," Tim said. Kon took it, curious. It was silver and had a cross. Kon raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, thanks?"

"It's for precautions," Tim said and looked down at the floor.

"Precautions?"

"Um...it's October," Tim hedged and Kon snickered.

"Dude! It's not like I'm going to be attacked by a werewolf or something!"

"I don't want to take any chances," Tim said defensively. "If magic and demons exist, it only stands to reason ghosts do as well."

Kon laughed and grabbed Tim by the shoulders. He gave him a big wet sloppy kiss.

"Thank you, Tim. Though I think it would be better if you gave me a charm to ward off Pa's grumpiness."


	49. Height Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on writetimetodraw.tumblrATcom head canon.

Kon blinks. Has to stare really hard. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Closes it again. Lifts his hand. Holds it at his head. Holds it at Tim's head. Does it again. Wriggles his fingers.

Tim just looks at him amused.

Kon continues to open and close his mouth before finally bursting out in an awkward splutter, "T-this--Tim--you--are--are you TALLER THAN ME?"

Tim nods his head slowly. "Looks like it."

But he's grinning and Kon isn't grinning because this wasn't possible. Shouldn't be possible. Kon measures again.

"This doesn't make sense," Kon declares. Tim shrugs his shoulder with a careless roll, and Kon still can't believe this. That Tim is this lean, this thin and wiry. And tall. Taller than him.

"My mother's side of the family were all pretty tall, according to the records," Tim explains.

And Kon still doesn't want to believe this. "But you are--" supposed to be tiny, supposed to be smaller than Kon because Kon was the big spoon and...

Tim pats him on the shoulder. "Taller than you, I know. Don't worry. You're still Superboy."

Because Kon was still more muscular, more heavy built than Tim. Just shorter. By two inches.

Then Tim grins wickedly, leans in towards Kon. "Honestly. You have nothing to worry about."

And Tim's eyes slide down his chest to his groin. "Nothing to worry about at all."

That only makes Kon feels a little bit better.


	50. Ducks are evil

"Ow!" Kon glared at the yellow duck. He was at the park with Tim, just sitting on a nice bench. Tim was reading a book while Kon was feeding the ducks with left over bread. But then this yellow duck, the yellowest duck of all of them bit his finger. Tim looked up from his book in concern.

"Kon?"

Kon glared at the duck. It looked so innocent, but it wasn't.

"It bit me!"

Tim frowned. "What? The duck?"

"Yes!"

And Kon waved his hand at Tim, but it was pointless. Kon was made of steel after all. Tim laughed.

"You got bitten by a duck?"

Kon glared at Tim. "It's not funny. Just look at it!"

The duck cocked its head up at Kon. Kon tried to shoo it away.

"Go, I don't have any more bread. Ack!"

Kon jerked his hand back as the duck tried to nip at his fingers. 

"What would the world say?" Tim asked with chuckle. "If they knew Superboy could be defeated by a duck?"

"It's a very evil duck!"

QUACK~


	51. OlderKon/Tim

Tim’s chest hurts. It hurts and it aches and his heart feels like it’s clenched so tightly it would burst into a spill of blood except that isn’t possible. Because Tim’s chest isn’t cut open or anything. He has to swallow hard because those blue, blue eyes are staring at him. Older and wiser, but still the same old blue that Tim has seen each and every time on Superboy. On Kon.

Because this was a situation he hadn’t planned for, hadn’t thought would ever happen and it’s making Tim want to kick himself in the head. Because if he had planned for it, he might be able to deal with it better. He wouldn’t be on the verge of hyperventilation, voice lost and chest still squeezing so tightly that it really should burst into a spill of blood.

How did one deal with a time-traveling Superboy? An older Kon that looked a little more like Clark in his form but still undeniably Kon? When the present day Kon was only half way across the world because they had an argument?

And Tim’s heart pounds faster when this Kon slides a hand onto his cheek, cupping it.

“You’re freaking out here,” he says and Tim’s heart could have stopped here. Kon's voice was slightly deeper and rough with age.

Tim nods his head in one quick jerk and Kon smiles, the cheerful ‘U stretching those lips wide.

“Calm down dude,” Kon chuckles and all Tim can think is—how can he calm down? How can he calm down when there is apparently a time traveling Kon in front of him?

Then Tim blushes because he says something of that affect out loud, and Kon is laughing, tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Man, you weren’t kidding about this,” Kon says and Tim has to stare. Because he hadn’t said anything at all. Kon pats him on the shoulder genially.

“Your older self—said he was totally unsettled when I popped up like this.”

Tim’s mouth gapes, mind wheeling at that phrase. Because it implies that this was supposed to happen and damn it, time travelling laws were confusing and complex and circular and—

“Don’t think too hard or your brain will explode,” Kon interjects. “I’m here for one purpose and one purpose only.”

And Tim stills as Kon leans in closer and whispers into his ear.

“Just wait. I promise if you wait for Kon, you’ll have the future we have together.”


	52. Sausage Pillow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon forgets that Tim doesn't have work. For Lys.

There was a warm weight resting next to Kon, and he snuggles into it. Buries his head into the warmth, arm wrapped around it and pulling it closer. Because he's still not quite awake yet and doesn't want to get up.

And he nuzzles his nose into the heat because it was like sunshine and smells like Tim, and Kon wonders when did Tim have a long pillow. A sausage pillow that felt so much like a human body. That was kind of strange. And kind of creepy. But he was too comfortable to move and Tim was at work so it's not like Kon could ask him about it anyway.

Kon presses deeper into the strange body pillow, pushing his nose further into it.

"Kon," a voice groans. "Stop that, it tickles."

Kon's eyes shoot wide open.

"Tim?"

Tim groans again, hand on his face as Kon looked over him curiously.

"I thought you had work?"

"Not today," Tim says sleepily. "Go back to sleep."

Kon was happy enough to do just that.


	53. TimKon Midterm Drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timkon drabbles written during midterm, winter 2012.

**One.**

“Conner,” and it’s a warning. Kon knows it is because Tim is tensed. Tight. Eyes totally not on him but staring away, head caught in a permanent profile. And it was “Conner”, not “Kon”. Always “Conner” when Tim wanted to distance and push Kon away.

“Tim,” Kon says and it’s a warning too. Less of a bat-ish one, but no less effective. It was tone matched exactly and Tim sighs. Sighs with the weight of the world and his head moves just a fraction.

“I have work to do.” Tim goes still because Kon has a hand on Tim. He can feel the flex of a muscle in Tim’s wrist, pleading for Kon to let go.

“Bullshit,” Kon says. Calls Tim out on it, on an excuse used so many times before. His grip tightens reflexively, and he could feel and hear the pounding in Tim’s heart. Telling Tim to run, but Tim hides the urge, hides it with a twist of his wrist out of Kon’s hold, body shifted to face Kon head on.

Tim opens his mouth but he doesn’t say anything. He closes it and shakes his head as he turns, cape swishing hard enough to brush up against Kon’s legs.

“Tim,” Kon says again, probing, and Tim sighs again. Sighs heavily and deeply. Tim pinches the bridge of his nose, exhales long and slow.

“Can we do this another day?”

“No,” Kon immediately shoots down. If Kon allowed it then Tim had time to deflect and—

“Kon,” and it isn’t “Conner” anymore. Tim swallows hard and Kon hears it. The words stuck in throat and Kon waits patiently.

**Two.**

Heat suffused Tim’s cheeks the longer Kon gazed down at him, and he flushed a brighter red when Kon licked his lip slow and hungry. Kon’s palms were hot on his bare thighs, TTK skimming across the surface in the lightest phantom touch.

And Tim flushed further still because Kon was still staring. Not doing anything but staring at the junction between his legs, eyeing his erection with a careful examination.

“Kon,” and it was a whine, low in his throat. Kon pressed his hands harder onto Tim’s thighs, almost burning, but it still wasn’t—

Another low whine emitted from Tim’s throat. Kon was trailing a finger up the length of his cock only to collect the drop of pre-cum that was beading at the tip. Tim watched as Kon brought the finger up to his mouth and licked, eyes half close as if savoring the taste.

Kon’s eyes were sharp and blue.

“You taste good.”

And that was all Tim needed to jerk Kon’s head down.

**Three.**

Kon had scarcely blinked before he was staring up with entirely wide eyes. The blue sky that he was looking up at suddenly changed to a very tantalizing view of long pale legs and a teasing glance of bright red panties.

“Uh,” he said stupidly as Tim looked down at him, his hands perched delicately on his hips.

“Hello Kon.” It wasn’t fair how much amusement there was in that voice, nor was it fair that Kon was getting uncomfortably hard.

“What’s with the…?” Kon trailed off. Because Tim was still standing over him, in a skirt and still giving Kon a way too good look up said skirt.

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Mission, remember?”

Kon’s face heated up. He didn’t remember—

“Mission?”

Tim laughed. “Well, a date really.”

“Oh,” Kon said. “Oh! Right!”

And then he floundered. Because Tim still wasn’t moving and—

“We could stay here?” Kon blurted out instead of asking Tim to move so he could get up.

“Um, for cloud watching?” Kon tried.

Tim’s eyes were dark. “Do you really mean cloud watching?”

Kon’s eyes darted from Tim’s panties to Tim’s face. “Uh…”


	54. TimKon B-day drabbles 2012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Lys, Vikun, Izzie, Sleeplessness

**Yearbook – I don’t know where I was going with this one.**

                “Hey! There you are!”

                Tim had barely turned his head before a heavy arm was dropped across his shoulders. Conner smiled down at him, and Tim noticed that there was a heavy hardcover book in his hand. It rested against the top half of Tim’s upper left chest.

                “Uh, hey, Kon.” Tim pushed slightly and ducked underneath Conner’s arm, getting out of the hold. Conner easily pulled him back.

                “Nope! I’m not letting you go anywhere. You have to sign my yearbook.” Conner waved the yearbook in front of him. “And I want to sign yours too.”

                Tim bit his lip and looked at his feet.

                “Um…I didn’t buy a yearbook.”

                Conner’s wide smile turned into surprise. “You didn’t?”

                “No,” and this time Tim looked Conner straight in the eyes. “I didn’t feel like it. It’s not that important.”

                “Oh,” Conner said. The yearbook was still in his hand, in the air, and Conner pulled it back. “I—“

                Guilt rolled around in Tim’s stomach. “I’ll sign yours if you want…it’s just not important if I have one.”

                “Okay?” Conner said unsurely and handed it. There was a frown on his face. “But I really wanted to sign yours. You don’t think you’ll forget?”

                “Conner, I have more than several albums and CDs worth of pics. I don’t think I’m likely to forget anything soon.”

**Miscommunication**

                Tim stared at the CD that Conner gave back to him.

                “It was great,” Conner said. “I really enjoyed it. I like this band. Do you have any more of them?”

                Conner tapped his finger against the song and band in question. The songs were written on the back of the white paper envelope used to hold the CD.

                “I’m…glad,” Tim said slowly. Because he wasn’t really glad at all. He spent several months, looking for the perfect songs to convey his feelings and thoughts about his love for Conner. And Tim knew he shouldn’t be disappointed because he didn’t exactly tell him what it was…

                “Why don’t you keep this? It’s just a copy,” Tim shrugged off. “And I’ll get you more of that band.”

                “Awesome,” Conner grinned.

                “Um, yeah. I’m going to get to class.” Tim adjusted the strap on his backpack nervously, heading off.

                “Wait!”

                He was surprised by Conner’s sudden kiss.

                “Ah, what?” Tim flushed pink, eyes wide as he looked up at Conner.

                “Don’t be so subtle next time. You know I can’t read between the lines that well.”

                “Then, how did you?”

                “Bart told me.”

**Bicycle**

                “I’m not sure about this,” Kon muttered under his breath as he gripped the handlebars of the bicycle tightly.

                “You can do this,” Tim said patiently.

                “I don’t think so.” Kon gripped the handlebars even tighter. The contraption was so foreign and strange.

                “It’s just another method of transportation,” Tim pointed out. “You mastered driving. You can master this.”

                “Yeah! But that’s driving!” Kon disagreed. “This is riding a goddamn bike.”

                Tim shot him an exasperated look.

                “I’m right here if anything happens. And, this is not even a bicycle really.” He pointed at the two small wheels attached to the second wheel of the bike. They were training wheels because Kon had never biked before, and somehow Tim thought it was a great idea for Kon to learn.

                “I rather fly.”

                “You can’t fly everywhere.”

                “I’ll drive then.”

**A random AU because I love them.**

                “Ack! Kon!” Tim growled. The scroll that was in his hand was stolen, and Kon was now spinning it across the palm of his hand. Kon winked at him.

                “What is this?”

                “Something that I was going to post.” Tim tried to snatch it out of Kon’s hand, but Kon kept it out of his reach—throwing it to his other hand and catching it.

                “Nope!”

                “Kon!”

                Tim glared at Kon fiercely, but that glare was soon swept away because a serious expression settled onto Kon’s face.

                “Please don’t post this, Tim.” Kon tapped the scroll.

                “I have to,” Tim replied softly. “It’s my duty.”

                Kon shook his head. “To get razed to the ground by the public? I don’t think so.”

                “I’m not going to get razed to the ground,” Tim said with a shake of his head. Kon looked at him skeptically.

                “Well…not as much as you think,” Tim tried.

                “Tim, that’s a letter of resignation, saying that everything you did was wrong.”

                “Then, tell me what the hell am I supposed to?” Tim’s tone was sharp. Because he had been thinking about this for a week now, and if he didn’t send that scroll out it’ll be too late.

                Kon tore the scroll in half.

                “We take them head on.”


	55. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim knows his duty to Bruce.

               Tim doesn’t want to hear it. That he isn’t good enough. That he isn’t enough. Or that he was wrong. When he’s so loyal. Have given everything. Has given everything. He has nothing left to himself but duty and that is all for him too.

                So he storms out. Throws the door open with a wide bang. And Bruce is speechless. Stares. And Tim doesn’t stop. Keep walking.

                But he  _feels_  it. Every word that Bruce doesn’t say. Colliding into his back.

                It reminds him, Tim thinks, of his father. How he once said, “as soon as I’m old, you’ll leave me in a nursing home to rot and die. I know you will.”

                And Tim wants to laugh. Because he wouldn’t. He couldn’t do it. Can't do it. Not when it screams down to his core duty.

                That’s what it is now. The same scene. With Bruce. Except it’s not a nursing home. But the streets of Gotham.

                Tm walks away. Yes, he does. But he knows he’s coming back. Because he can’t help it. If he doesn’t, it’ll fester and grow and  _nags_  till Tim  _needs_  to go back.

                His duty. And Bruce doesn’t get it. Doesn't understand, but that’s okay. Tim gets it. Knows it. Breathes it.

                He is back even as he leaves.


	56. Just Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim is just tired of it all.

   Tim clenches his hand. Clenches it tight and good. Then he releases it. Lets his fingers straighten out slowly, the bends and tightness removed. Lets his hand goes lax, limp and slack. And he looks up at Dick. Looks up and smiles, pasting on that tiny smile that wasn’t really a smile but it wasn’t quite a lie either. Because he was just tired.

                “No, Dick,” he says. “I’m not angry. I’m not angry at all.”

                “Are you sure?” Dick asks.

                And Tim’s hand stays limp. Stays slack and lax and it dangles at his side uselessly.

                “Yes, I’m sure,” he says. Because he wasn’t angry. “I’m just…tired.”

                That was it. Tim was tired. He was tired of being upset and being upset but not going anywhere with it. It was easier to just be.

                Dick places a hand on Tim’s forehead, feeling. He hums, and it’s a hum of relief. That Tim isn’t sick.

                “Okay, but get some rest.”

                “I will,” Tim responds. And he goes to his room and lies down. Because he’s just tired of it all.


	57. BruTim 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off heartslogos.tumblr.com piece.

_"I hate it when you call me Brucie."_

_"Would you rather I call you Dad?"_

The question slips from Tim's mouth, slips and trips and falls in all the most clumsy ways it could possibly could. And it doesn't end there. No, the words sprawl, lay down flat and open and wide. Just teeming in awkwardness and it is so inelegant that Tim wonders why the words even tried. Why he tried.

Bruce stares at him, eyebrows raised and Tim regrets. That the words slipped from his mouth and were enough to raise those eyebrows. To raise those eyebrows and disfigure that handsome face, ruining that brow with lines and wrinkles and makes it too old, too weary.

And Tim pulls his words back, pulls them as he turns away. Shields them from their awkwardness and clumsiness and inelegance and--

"I'm sorry," he says. He isn't. But he offers it, gives up those words because these words were fine. Always presentable and well enough to smooth over any mishaps and badly made situations from words that weren't decent or kind and rough all around the edge of letters.

"No, Tim," Bruce says. And Tim wilts because those words were commanding, attentive and--

"You can call me Dad if you want. I didn't think..."

"You didn't think at all," Tim replies and those words were even worse. Worse than the question words.


	58. BruTim 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cont. from BruTim 1

Bruce slides an arm around Tim's waist, pulling him closer. And Tim swats at the arm, swats it because it's far too hot, too sticky and too embarrassing to cuddle.

"Please don't," he says. "It's too hot."

And he feels Bruce shifts behind him, feels the muscles shifts and Bruce tries to hide the chuckle bubbling in his throat.

"I thought nothing was too hot for you Tim."

Bruce whispers into Tim's ear, mouth so close to be teasing. Tim flushes.

"Don't give me that," he says. "We all know  _Brucie_  can't stand the heat."

Then Bruce tugs Tim to look at him. Tim smothers his glee at the grimace on Bruce's face. "I hate it when you call me Brucie."

He stares into Bruce's eyes and a wicked smile creeps onto his lips.

"Would you rather I call you  _Dad_?" He says in answer.

Bruce takes the question with a laugh, pressing a kiss to Tim's lips.

"That depends," he says huskily. "Are you a bad son or a good son?"

"I'm a good son," Tim whispers back, leaning up to Bruce. "But I have to get up."

And Tim tries to slide out of the bed before Bruce catches him.


	59. OlderTim/Bru

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Stina.

Bruce looked up at Tim, looked up at that face that was older and wiser and looked at how blue those eyes were. There was a dangerous lit to Tim's smile, that Bruce couldn't place and that he had never seen before. But then that only made sense because Bruce  hadn't. This Tim--

"Aren't you glad I'm older?" Tim asked and his weight was crushing down onto Bruce, into the hardness of his cock, rocking. Bruce groaned and he couldn't lift his hands up, to grab those hips and rock against them harder. He was tied down good, wrists lashed to bedpost.

"Well, you're closer to my age," Bruce hedged. Of all the things he thought he would be doing with an older Tim from another universe, this wasn't it.

Tim's smile was wide, teeth almost sharp. "Technically, I'm older than you at the moment."

And his tongue was grazing, slipping across Bruce's chest.

"Oh?" Bruce choked out as Tim sucked on a nipple, tongue swirling around and onto the tip.

"Hm," Tim hummed, words half obscured as he spoke. "I just look young. Good genes and all."

Which Bruce didn't really care about because Tim's hand was sliding down to cup one ass cheek, squeezing it gently.

"I think I want to top," Tim said contemplatively. And his fingers started trailing down Bruce's cleft smoothly and slowly.

Bruce was okay with that. More than okay.


	60. Jawline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce studies Tim's photo.

His jaw was sharp, sharp and thrown into even sharper relief by the shadows and the darkness.

It was a black and white photo after all.

Bruce wanted to thumb past the page, past this alluring photo of a boy that was considered his son by all means. He didn't. He couldn't, and he traced a line in the air above the photo following that jawline. In the air because Bruce couldn't touch the photo, couldn't mar that pretty, pretty photo of a boy he didn't think as his son.

It was wrong. To study this photo with the eyes Bruce had now. Eyes that were more than filled with an unhealthy fascination -- and lust. 

Bruce dropped his hand and wondered where and how did Tim take this photo. Tim could have done it himself. Set up the camera and--

He shoved the photo underneath his files.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said from behind him.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"Dinner is in thirty minutes." Then a pause. "Master Tim is home. He will be joining us."

"Okay, thank you. I'll be up."

Bruce wasn't going to go up though. Not when a black and white picture of Tim was in his hands.


	61. Better than Grandfather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian was better than his grandfather. Tim sees that.

 Tim stares up at Damian. Wonders at how Damian has grown and sees in the boy not Bruce or Talia but  _Ra’s_. Studies the olive skin that is only just a bit lighter. Sees the shoulders that are just a tad too broad. And Damian is pressing him, pinning him down with his thighs, hands on either side of Tim’s head sinking into the mattress.

                “What are you doing?” And Tim can’t even make his voice go harsh. Because in this light, Damian reminds him of his grandfather. And when he speaks, Tim feels it. The difference between Damian and Ra’s, but Tim could pretend the faintness of it wasn’t there.

                “Tt, do you really need to ask?” And Damian is sliding a hand into his hair. Stroking just like his grandfather. Just like Ra’s.

                “Damian…,” and a kiss is being pressed to his lips chastely.

                “I’m better than my grandfather,” Damian says. Tim thinks he could learn to agree, so he accepts the next kiss with heat.


	62. Made yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce made Tim. Rated M.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anexorcist.

 “You made me, Bruce,” Tim says and he is in Bruce’s bed. Sprawled on his back, white limbs shockingly stark in a room without light.

                “Did I?” Bruce’s voice is grave. Grave and serious, and Tim flushes pink. The hue barely visible beneath the grey pallor in his cheeks. The grey was made by shadows. Even in bed, more so in Bruce’s room, they needed to hide and lie.

                “You don’t think so?”

                Because Tim couldn’t bear the thought of otherwise. Not when he gave too much, gave it all and was nothing of himself. Bruce takes Tim’s cheeks in his hand, cradles Tim’s face. Presses in slightly with thick broad fingers into Tim’s hollowness, beneath the cheekbones hard, jutting out from Tim’s neglect for food and work.

                “I did not,” Bruce says slowly, “imagine you here.”

                Here. Because in his bed was too obscene. Too crude and it would taint the walls in a blistering echo.

                “You might as well imagine it.” Tim slides a hand up to cover one of Bruce’s and holds that hand tight. It is warm, and Tim is cold everywhere else.

                Bruce frowns but he kisses Tim anyway. That is warm. Hot even when Bruce slides a tongue across one scarred shoulder. Tim still feels cold, but he twines a hand in Bruce’s hair, encouraging.

                And he feels anger. Sudden and blinding. Bruce doesn’t notice. That he kissed the scar of Tim’s missing spleen. Tim never told him.

                Bruce listens to Tim’s cries and moans and thinks them real. It was because Tim was made Bruce’s. Made by Bruce and those letters of his name was also Bruce’s. That didn’t change the anger.

                Tim stops him. Panting and out of breath. Before Bruce takes him in.

                “You know, I—“

                Tim wants more. Needs more. When everything was shattered and Bruce wasn’t there. Bruce’s return. Bruce’s hug. They weren’t enough.

                He wants to desperately believe. That—

                Bruce swallows him, and Tim groans. Groans and move his hips. Jerks up hard. It’s not an answer.

                Tim takes what he can get.


	63. He needed a beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has been a Robin to all the Batmen except for Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off heartslogos.tumblr.com thing.

“Drake,” and Tim paused. Paused at the foot of the stairs going up to the manor from the cave. He didn’t turn his head to face Damian.

                Because Damian was sheathed in black and grey, sheathed in the cowl of Batman and it was Batman’s voice that spoke.

               Tim smiled at that, at Batman’s voice and the sound of it. He wanted to laugh at it. He knew what Damian would ask.

                “You have been Robin for every Batman thus far,” Batman said.

                “Yes,” Tim answered, uttering that one word to quiet all the sounds in the cave. And he waited. Because today Tim could outwait Batman.

                “You have even been Robin to Jason,” Batman continued. And that was true too, but…

                “Would you be my Robin?” Batman’s voice was hesitant and Tim turned away from the stairs, turned to face Batman.

                “I’m too old for Robin.”

                It was pure rejection and Tim watched as Batman stared at him, knew the eyes behind the cowl was boring into him.

                “But—“

                “I refuse,” Tim said. “I’m Red Robin now.”

                He would never be Robin. Not to this Batman whose voice held no meaning, no loyalty for Tim. Not to this Batman that didn’t reach out to Tim’s Robin.

                “You were—,” Batman started but Tim stopped it violently. This Batman wasn’t his Batman. Not  any of the former he had served.

                “I know I could take it up,” Tim said. “Even at my age but I won’t.”

                And there was a smile in his lips, in the jaws and his eyes.

                “Do you know why?”

                Batman was silent at the question. Frozen and no, he wasn’t Tim’s Batman.

                “Batman needs a Robin.  _But you don’t need me_. I am not your partner.”

                The smile curled fiercely.

                “You have never needed me.”

                This Batman didn’t need Tim at all. And Tim turned from this Batman sheathed in grey and black, sheathed in the dark of the cave, shadows converging to him.

                Tim walked up the stairs to the manor. Walked up the stairs and left the cave.

                He was every Batman’s Robin but he wasn’t this Batman’s Robin.

                No, Tim was Beloved and tangled in sheets, worshipping Damian with kisses and touches filled with love and tenderness. He was Beloved and it was what Damian needed more than anything else. Tim wouldn’t trade Beloved for Robin.

                Because Damian needed a Beloved. Not a Robin.


	64. Dared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian steals Tim's laptop. Rated R.

  Tim's laptop was thin, flat and black -- a good weight resting on Damian's lap. He had taken it from the older man's room. Stolen it. Tim wouldn’t be back for three days, away on Wayne business.

          And it was…Damian’s fingers skimmed the surface of the laptop lightly. It was barely scratched, well cared for despite Tim’s much and overwrought use of the thing. And Damian closed his eyes, trying to memorize every single detail of the laptop. The cool and sleek way it felt beneath his hands and he lifted the top.

          Eyes opened to marvel at the keys. He could see the wearing away of the letters and there was a palpable feeling in his chest that he could barely identify. Tim had touched this.  _Used this._  And Damian groaned, pressed his lips to the keys and imagined them transferred to Tim’s fingers, long and thin and thought of those fingers gliding across piano keys.

            Damian had heard Tim. Heard him played once and had never forgotten it. Because Tim had put such feelings into the song, into the melody—it was as if Tim had written the piece himself. But Damian knew he hadn’t because he recognized the song. One of those old classical and the laptop shook in Damian’s hands. Because the laptop contained the essence of Tim and Damian held it in his hands. The weight of it stunning and magnificent.

           His breath would have quickened but Damian was too well trained for that. One hand rubbed against the fabric of his pants, the other still on Tim’s laptop.

            Damian dared.


	65. I give you heads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian expresses his love for Tim. AU!

“You brought me heads,” Tim said calmly and stared. Stared and felt a smile on his lips because each one was a well known enemy. And he flicked the cloth back over the heads before turning to the one who brought them to his home.

“I did,” Damian affirmed, face expressionless and body rigid, waiting for Tim’s reaction.

“And stained my carpet,” Tim continued. There was no hint of a wince in the lines of Damian’s face but Tim was patient. The boy would answer.

“I will give you a better one,” Damian considered carefully.

“Humph,” Tim said. He surveyed Damian once more with a critical eye but Damian didn’t speak. So, Tim gave the covered heads a careless glance and moved to his desk. He was unimpressed and he sat down at the desk, hand reaching for a quill.

“If you think that is enough, you are mistaken,” Tim informed him and started scribbling on his treatise that was abandoned when Damian came.

“I--,” and Damian had moved to stand behind Tim, “have leveled my grandfather’s kingdom. Word of it should reach you soon.”

Tim paused at the whisper into his ear, close and warm, and his quill left a large ink blot on the page.

“Is that so?” Tim asked and tilted his head up at the boy.

“You asked it,” Damian said, fingers daring to smooth down Tim’s jawline and cup that chin to tilt it even further up.

But Tim didn’t complain about the awkward angle or the strain of it on his neck. Instead, his teeth were bared into a fierce smile.

“Your father will be disappointed.”

And Damian’s eyes narrowed, fingers gripping Tim’s chin tighter.

“That is another matter,” Damian said and Tim laughed.

“You will not be side tracked then?” Tim mused as Damian relaxed his grip at the mirth there.

“No,” Damian said softly. “I have delivered as promised.”

And that was true but Tim hesitated. Not because he hadn’t heard the word of Ra’s’ lost kingdom because he knew Damian’s word was sound but…

“You will not regret to love me? A wizard?”

He looked into Damian’s eyes, blue to blue in question.

“Would I express it so if I did not?” Damian’s mouth quirked at the corners, amused. And he bent his head to Tim’s and kissed those fair lips. Because Damian had laid waste to his grandfather, disobeyed his father and turned away from his lands for Tim.

For love and Tim was his.


	66. Islands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian gifts Tim with islands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Ran.

Tim looked down at the deeds in his hand confusingly. These were the deeds to about fifteen different tiny islands and they were his. He placed the deeds down on the table, fanning them out and push it forward slightly. Damian was sitting across from him, stiff and rigid. Tim spied a nervous tension in the slight twitch of his jaws tightening.

"Explain," he said.

"It is a present," Damian said, face blank. As if it was totally normal to gift someone with a plethora of random tiny islands. Tim snorted and tapped his fingers on top of the deeds questioningly.

"You do not just give someone the deed to an island much less this many."

There was an unspoken try again to Tim's voice and there was another twitch in Damian's jaw. 

"I wish you to cease your destruction of my grandfather's bases."

Tim shook his head. He gathered up the papers and pushed it to Damian.

"That explains nothing."

Damian scowled briefly, breaking his blank face. He pushed the papers back over to Tim.

"I...purchased these so you do not need to resort to venting your displeasure upon my grandfather's properties."

Tim blinked and pushed the deeds back to Damian.

"I didn't realized you were that close to him," Tim said.

There was a discernible air of frustration as Damian pushed the deeds back over to him.

"I am not," Damian gritted out. "I merely think you ought to relieve your anger on things that belong to you or to the Waynes. Not my grandfather's -- it's not respectable."

And Tim would have protested that it was perfectly fine to destroy Ra's' bases. It interrupted the man's operations and networks and oh.

Tim picked up the deeds and Damian was relieved.

"You're totally jealous, aren't you?" Tim asked with a smirk.

"I am not," Damian denied.

"Don't worry," Tim said. "I won't blow up anything belonging to your grandfather unless it's necessary."

"Good," Damian said stiffly, not quite able to hide his pleasure at that.


	67. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim didn't know he had one. Hinted sex.

Tim stared at Damian before he turned his head to the side and coughed. There was the faintest rose pink blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Why are you naked?" Because Damian was all bared and toned. His tanned flesh was golden and well, Tim looked away before his eyes wandered down.

"It's warm, " Damian answered and stretched.

"It's not even 87 degrees." Damian hummed. "I'm appreciating the human form unclothed. Grayson mentioned it is freeing."

"Damian."

And Tim was red as Damian shifted into his line of sight, making Tim's turned head a moot move.

"Will you quit blushing? This is an invitation. "

"Oh! "


	68. Not him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick isn't Bruce.

"I thought," Dick begins but Tim cuts him off. Cuts him off ruthlessly and hard.

"Bruce?" And here Tim laughs and laughs because he could. He can't even clench his hands at that.

"Of course you would," Tim says, shaking his head. "Because it was always Robin to you, wasn't it?"

Dick frowns. Frowns and Tim almost wavers for that frown. Dick with a frown was wrong. He should never be with a frown, but Tim knows better now.

"That's not true," Dick says. 

"It isn't?" Tim challenges.

"No," and Dick runs a hand through his hair. "A little -- you said --"

"I know what I said," Tim interrupts. Cutting Dick off again because it was what he did best.

"Batman needs a Robin," and he repeats those words he said so long ago. Tim could almost regret them.

Dick frowns further and it is so wrong, so very wrong, but Tim won't take them back, the words he said. Even if he put that frown on Dick's face.

"Tim, I can't...you are...I love you, you know that?"

Tim sighs wearily. "I know. Bruce is..."

And Dick hugs him, thinks it is all right, that it's fine. Tim lets him.

"If you love Bruce, then okay."

Because he couldn't tell Dick. Not without ruining things.

_No. I love you, Dick. Not him._


	69. Chapter 69

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim keeps a health bar database of his family and friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 541\. Sometimes Tim doesn’t quite believe that the people he love have come back. He keeps a database of the status of every person he cares about. Every time he wakes up he checks it to keep track of who is still dead and who’s come back to him.  
> \---batfamily headcanon

Dick is speechless. He doesn't know what quite to say or what to think, but the evidence is there. Glaring at him in the whiteness light, and the content of the screen seems to hurt even more than that blinding light. Dick wants to delete it, erase it as if that list was never there but he knows that won't change a things. So, he asks Tim.

 

"Why do you have this, Tim?"

 

And Tim looks at him, looks at him with those blue eyes and speaks slowly. Halting and stiff.

 

"I--I sometimes...can't believe that Kon came back."

 

Tim swallows hard. Because the next line was difficult.

 

"Or, or Bruce is alive. I--and the fact that people can come back to life like Jason, it's" -- Tim laughs awkwardly -- "I don't know if I trust my eyes.

 

"But they are back," Dick says. He says it firmly because Tim needed it, and it was the only way to assure Tim. It didn't.

 

Tim shakes his head and gestures to the screen.

 

"Only because of this. I know because of this. For certain."

 

Dick worries that Tim will cry, but he doesn't. Instead, Tim continues speaking.

 

"When I can list out all the details...when I can see, well, their "health bar", I know for sure. That they're still here even if they're hurt."

 

"Tim," and Dick pulls Tim into a tight embrace. "Oh, Timmy."

 

He feels Tim wets the shoulder of his shirt, and it makes Dick hug Tim harder. It makes him think he should have believed Tim when he said Bruce was still alive. It makes Dick feels he failed. And he can't even promise that he wouldn't die or come back from the dead.

 

Tim cries some more, and Dick lets him and he stares at the screen, at the database cataloging all the lives precious to Tim.


	70. Chapter 70

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim meets Dick's son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 544\. After Tim can’t take the pressure of being a hero anymore he fakes his death and becomes a teacher. He isn’t identified for over a decade until one day he sees on his roll Thomas Greyson. A natural acrobat who goes around showing off his handstand. On day, on Tim's way out, Thomas Grayson introduces his father too him. Dick knows that its Tim straight away, but keeps Tim's secret, knowing that is what he wants.  
> \--------batfamily headcanon on tumblr

Thomas Grayson was a good kid. More than a good kid, and while he wasn't exactly like Dick, he was enough of the man that Tim's heart ached every time he saw the boy. He saw reflected in the boy's eyes, Dick's humor, and if he happened to see the boy outside  in an handstand or breakdancing -- well, the boy got Dick's physical prowess. 

 

Sometimes Tim wonder if the boy joined the family business. But he kept his eyes to himself and his fingers away from the keyboard of his computer when such thoughts strayed that direction. He didn't need to know. He didn't want to know. And the boy's proximity wasn't good. Because he was bound to see Dick or one of them again.

 

And he tensed the moment it came. It was unavoidable. He was just passing through the double red doors of the main entrance when Thomas called out to him.

 

"Mr. D! Mr. D!"

 

Tim looked at Thomas who was smiling widely, his arm in the air waving frantically. Dick  was next to the boy. He tried to relax his shoulders as he walked toward them. 

 

"Hello Thomas," he said. "Going home, now?"

 

Thomas nodded. "Yup -- this is my dad!"

 

Tim forced himself to smile and he turned to meet Dick in the eye. He was older but still very ---

 

Dick smiled, stretching out his hand. Tim caught the minute widening of Dick's pupils in surprise.

 

"You are my son's history teacher? He's been talking about you."

 

"Good things, I hope."

 

Thomas didn't picked up the way their handshake lasted just a tad longer than a normal one would.

 

"Very good things," Dick assured Tim. He grinned widely, and Tim relaxed. Because this was okay. Dick was okay and wasn't mad.

 

"I'm glad. Your son is an excellent student."

 

"Is he now?" Dick laughed. "He plays more than he should, I think."

 

"Dad!" Thomas growled. Dick patted him on the shoulder fondly. 

 

"He does well enough in my class," Tim offered. "He got an A on the test last week."

 

"I did?" Thomas asked. 

 

Tim nodded. "I'm giving them back tomorrow."

 

"Awesome!" And Thomas fist pumped the air. Dick laughed again. "I own you ice cream now, huh?"

 

Tim smiled at them. "Well, I have to be going. Traffic is horrible. See you Thomas. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Grayson."

 

"You too," Dick called back as Tim walked away. Because everything was fine.

 


	71. Papercut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim gets a papercut. Dick helps. Slightly M.

About eight hours prior, Tim had stupidly given himself a paper cut on the finger. It was about a fourth of an inch long and deep enough to give a slight twinge of pain if he so much as bent it or was careless. And he was being stupidly careless right now. Because Dick was here, and he had given Tim the usual hug.

But his stupid finger decided to snag itself on the fabric of Dick's shirt and sent a reminding jolt of pain to his brain: hey, stupid. You cut me, and I hurt.

Tim hissed quietly and hurriedly yanked his hand away.

"Sorry, are you hurt?" Dick asked, concerned. Tim waved him off.

"I'm fine. I--just a stupid paper cut."

Dick ignored him, of course, and pulled Tim's hand up to examine it closely.

"Hm," Dick hummed. Tim didn't blame him. It was just a silly paper cut, even if it was a rather angry red. How thick was that paper?

"Your hands are way too dry," Dick said, hair falling in front of his face as he leaned further down to look at the cut. "It's not helping it."

"I'm not going to put lotion on it." Tim made a face. He could do without the sting.

And then Tim gasped. Because Dick was sliding the flat of his tongue over the cut. It was wet and hot and a strange mix of pain and general niceness. Dick swept his tongue up the length of Tim's finger and sucking it into his mouth. 

"D-Dick?"

Dick pulled off with a loud pop, licked his lips and smiled widely at Tim.

"I thought I'll turn some endorphins on and kill the pain."

Tim groaned at Dick's attempt of -- could it even be called humor? A joke?

"Dick, that was horrible."

"Oh, so you don't want me to continue?" Dick teased, lightly tracing a pattern into Tim's palm with his index finger.

Tim pushed his fingers up to Dick's mouth in answer.


	72. The Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cliche. Jason meets Tim the stripper (undercover).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off mythoughtfulwindow's art.

"Oh my god," Jason breathed as he took in the sight. "You have got to be kidding me."

He had received an anonymous note telling him to be at where the cool cats hang out.  _The Alley_  was a blend of a jazz and burlesque nightclub that attracted all sorts of people. And it operated a drug deal on the side as well which Jason had been trying for a while to break.

Jason went without his infamous helmet, grabbing a domino to put away in his pocket. He just might have an opportunity to bust the deal if the note was any indication. He arrived late because everybody arrived late, but upon entering the main showroom, Jason was surprised as hell.

Because Tim, the damn replacement, was right on center stage. Slick red tights and garters on, silky past the elbow gloves and tassels. Freaking tassels swaying from his nipples. Jason watched as Tim danced, bend and twirled them tassels as if he had been doing it all his life. And Tim sidled up to him, swaying to the beat of the music, a smirk on his face.

"Hey Jay," Tim crooned into Jason's ear.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jason hissed back, a hand gripping tightly on Tim's arm to keep him from leaving. Tim leaned in closer to Jason.

"Helping," Tim answered.

"I don't need your help."

"You don't," Tim agreed. " _But_   _I do_."

And Tim splayed a hand on Jason's chest, shifting forward till he was half straddling Jason.

"Right about now."

At those words, the lights went out sending  _The Alley_  into pitch black darkness.


	73. Chapter 73

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason confronts Tim about Damian. Hints of TimDamian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 532\. Tim eventually deduced that dbw00 was actually Damian. He was actually grateful for their chats though. It was his second try at a first impression. Even though he used code names, Tim always knew who Damian was complaining about. It was painful though to hear about "Redbird," which was obviously his code name for Tim, and then send Internet laughs at the admittedly witty observations Damian made about him.  
> \--------Batfamily headcanon on tumblr

Jason squares his shoulders when Tim comes into view. The second that Tim is close enough, Jason slugs him in the face. Tim swears and he skids sideway into the wall, a hand to his face.

"What the hell, Jason?"

And Jason looks at him, gives his best glare.

"I think I should be asking that, don't you think?"

Tim blinks at him, eyes tearing slightly from the pain. He gingerly touches his chin. It isn't broken as far as Jason can tell, but Tim stays close to the wall.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do!" And Jason's there, right in Tim's face. "I'm talking about the brat here."

"What about Damian?" And it pisses Jason off, that Tim speaks so calmly and coolly. Jason is tempted to punch him again, instead he retreats a little and breathes slowly.

"You're the burgerBird that brat," and Jason spits the term out with distaste, "is so infatuated with."

The replacement actually flinches, and it makes Jason narrows his eyes. Then Tim smooths out his form, both hands at his sides.

"So?" Tim says. "What do you care?"

"I care about the brat not becoming jailbait for your sickish fantasies," Jason answers honestly.

Tim snorts and winces. Good, his nose still hurts.

"As if that could happen. He doesn't even like me."

"He likes the online you," Jason retorts. Tim smiles at him sadly.

"And he'll kill me if he knew burgerBird was me."

Tim walks away from him. That made Jason felt a little bad. Because as much as the replacement annoyed him, the brat and him deserved better.


	74. Saunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU in which Jason is a fashion designer and Tim his unwilling model.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Hearts.

"Ow!" Tim said, trying not to move and keep still. Jason was pinning the silky fabric that was draped over him.

"I told you to keep still," Jason said, voice muffled. He had five or six pins half dangling out of his mouth. It was actually kind of comical, but Tim wasn't feeling much like laughing. Not when Jason had dangerous sharp looking pins so close to his skin.

"I am still," Tim said, resisting the urge to hit Jason over the head. "Ow! Did you just poke me on purpose that time?"

"Nope," Jason said. There was a glint in his eyes that made Tim suspicious, but Jason spat out the rest of the pins onto his palm and stood back. Looking at Tim with a critical eye. That meant he was almost done.

Jason waved and gestured with his arms. The pins that were in his hands scattered onto the floor. Tim didn't fancy picking them up afterward, and he looked at them in dismay.

"Come on, saunter and pose."

Tim glowered at him. "I can't. You pinned me too tightly."

He was in the latest creation of Jason's designs. It was an orange affair, a burst of color. And it was a dress. 

"It's supposed to be that tight," Jason explained. "What if your boobs got exposed? Because it wasn't tight enough?"

"It wouldn't matter if my boobs got exposed. Because I am a man, and it's perfectly acceptable for me to be bare chested. Why couldn't you get one of your girls to help you? Even Steph or Cass would have done."

"Would you kill me if I said I just wanted to see you in a dress?" Jason asked. His stare was a bit more than lascivious. 

"Jason!" Tim tried his best to glare, but Jason was coming forward. Even though Tim was standing on a box, Jason was still taller than him by a little bit.

"Shh," Jason said. "How else am I supposed to spend time with my way too busy boyfriend?"

"I don't know," Tim said, rolling his eyes. "I was thinking a nice dinner -- something like a date, but you clearly haven't--"

Tim blinked. Jason had snuck in a quick peck on Tim's lips before darting back to examine the dress again.

"Later. Now, hurry up and saunter already! I need to finish this before five."

Tim took that as a challenge. Jason wouldn't know what hit him as he stepped down from the box gracefully.


	75. Medieval Fair?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Jason gets cursed in a medieval Gotham. Jason is the princess for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Meyari.

“Damn it!” Jason cursed heavily as he tugged at the red fabric twined around his head. A stupid magic user thought it was a great idea to turned half of Gotham into a medieval fair. Literally. And Jason got the short end of the stick. He was stuck in a high tower with a door he couldn’t even kick open. His dress got in the way.

Then, Jason shouted because he finally managed to ripped off the red veil. He poke his head out the only—how typical was that?—window.

“Hurry the hell up,” Jason yelled down to Tim. Tim wasn’t faring much better. He was armored with a heavy chest plate and metal chains.

“Give me a second,” Tim called back just as irritated. He gave a sigh of relief as he pried off the chest plate.

“Can you go any faster? I can’t even break open the door.”

“I don’t know—why don’t you let down your long golden hair,” Tim retorted. He rolled his shoulders, glad to be free of the confining metal.

Jason paused. He had a wicked gleam in his eyes that Tim couldn’t see from below.

“Okay,” he agreed.

Tim looked up, confused. “Okay? Wait—what?”

Jason jumped out the window, free falling down.

“Jason!” Tim’s eyes were wide. He didn’t even managed to stick out his arms, and Jason landed straight into him with a hard grunt.

“You’re a terrible knight,” Jason mumbled as he pushed himself up slightly to look down at Tim. Tim coughed and wheezed.

“You’re a horrible princess. You couldn’t wait?”

“Nope.”

“Jason.” Tim was entirely exasperated.

“I’m still yours, right?” Jason grinned.

“Not if you don’t get off me.”


	76. Fairy Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason in another universe where he's martyred and praised after dying.

He was somewhere. He was somewhere he didn't know, and all around him dust fell in small particles. In the glow of the moon, they were almost like the fairy dust he used to dream about. Used to tell himself that he could use and make magic.

That was when he was five. That was the before. Before he became Robin and found true magic. Before he learned how to fly so high, so bright and crashed with one damning step.

And Jason had to stare. Stared at the fairy dust falling all around him in wonder. He held out his hand. Tried to catch some of the dust. They fell between his fingers and those that fell onto his palm dissolved. He couldn't catch a pile of it, and his heart ached suddenly. Ached suddenly and painful--it was overwhelming.

Jason crushed his open hand into a fist, made it tight and good. He looked up at the sky, looked at the dust falling down, down, down. He had to be dreaming. And Jason reached for his holster, reached for the gun and breathed slowly. He would blow his kneecap. Get himself out.

"Don't," a soft voice said just when Jason had the barrel to his knee, close and heavy enough to feel through his jeans. He looked up.

"Replacement?" Jason asked. Tim was bright blue eyes and he had a quiet little smile on  his lips.

"Please don't shoot yourself," Tim said. "I don't know what we'll do."

"We?" Jason asked. "Who's we?"

He glanced around, searching through the falling dust. He saw nothing, and the dust was falling thicker now. It was almost like ash.

"Come," and Tim took Jason by the hand. Pulled him and led him across the strange barren land. Jason let him, and he wasn't sure why.

They came to a plateau, large and wide. And over at one end there was a ledge. Tim tugged Jason towards it and pointed down.

"Look."

Below was a temple, old and cracked. Vines curled up the worn out columns, and in the center--

"What the fuck?" Jason said angrily. There was a statue of him. It was taller than the temple, and it cast a deep black shadow against the ground.

"We worship you," Tim said simply. "You came before. You died. And you were martyred."

Tim inclined his head down to the south. A line of worshipers were making a slow path up to the temple. Jason could barely make out the sounds of a chant as they came. He watched and a heavy feeling settled in his stomach. Even if this wasn't real, couldn't be real.

"This is sick, Tim. Even for you."

The smile on Tim's lips then had no meaning or emotion. It was simply the act of smiling.

"Is it?" Tim asked.

"Yeah," and Jason jumped. Jumped off the ledge and down. Down to the temple and all around him fairy dust fell thick and heavy.


	77. Looking at the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has a bad habit of looking at the ground. Jason objects to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Wintry.

Tim was a quiet kid. A beyond quiet kid, and it baffled Jason. How did such a soft spoken kid ended up in their crowd? Their crowd was rough. Wild and no good at the bad end, ruffians and will grow up to do no good at a worse end, and at the very, very end—it was too rude to say. At least in front of the kid.

                But Tim hung out with them anyway. Hung out while coughing at Jason’s smoking and enduring Steph’s rough mother hen tendencies. And she could peck all right, but she liked Tim well enough.

                Quiet was okay, Jason thought. It was the kid’s habit of looking at the ground that irked him.

                “Hey kid,” and Jason thumped him hard on the back. “You’ll miss a lot of things if you keep staring at the ground.”

                Tim blushed, the pink spread down his neck and dipped beneath his blue sweater.

                “I don’t always look at the ground,” he protested, lifting his eyes to meet Jason’s.

                “Yer not fooling anyone,” Jason said and dug his hands deep into his pocket. They were walking alongside this empty street, and the leaves were blowing in faded orange and brown.

                “I don’t,” and Tim’s voice rose slightly. In pitch and volume. It was a nice change to his quietness. “I take pictures. I observe—I see things, Jay. I’m not always looking at the ground”

                It would have been an effective argument if Tim didn’t drop his head right back down to his shoes after. Jason shook his head as they stood paused besides a streetlamp. Then, he leaned down with Tim still staring at his shoelaces.

                It was a kiss so quick and fast that even Jason wasn’t entirely sure it occurred, but Tim blinked. Looked at him with wide blue eyes.

                “D-did you just—“ Tim started.

                “I told you. You miss a lot of things staring at the ground.”

                Jason shrugged and walked off, Tim trailing behind dazed. The kid stopped looking down so often now at any rate.


	78. Tiny stalker Timmy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny Tim meets Clark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Superman finds 'lil stalker Tim while on his way to visit Bruce. Tim has never heard about Superman, but is a huge fan of Clark Kent's articles (the non superman ones he find, of course).   
> \---naturalbornidgit

“Oh,” and Clark watched as the little boy’s eyes rounded wide and large in delight. “I know who you are!”

And there was a tiny panic bubbling up inside of Clark. He had been flying to visit Bruce, but he noticed this tiny little boy with a camera. He was all alone, following people and taking pictures. Clark couldn’t help but fly down and change out of his costume. What would Ma say if he left a child like that by himself?

“Do you now?” Clark laughed and said instead. He picked the child up and tried to push his worries away. The child nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes!”

“So, who am I?” Clark teased. No, that was a silly thought. There was no way the boy knew he was Superman. And wouldn’t that be embarrassing to tell the League?

The boy giggled excitedly. “I can’t say it out loud.”

“Why not?”

The boy’s eyes darted around quickly, and when he was sure no one was there, he quietly said. “If I say it out loud, then you might get caught.”

And Clark then froze.

But the boy squirmed closer till he was level with Clark’s ear to whisper.

“You’re Clark Kent! You’re here for a story, right?”

Clark relaxed instantly, but he was bemused.

“You know me?”

The child laughed and giggled again. “I love your articles! Can I take a picture of you, please?”


	79. In which Steph and Tam gains up on Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steph and Tam gains up on Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Crim.

   The restaurant Tim sat in was full of tension. Not that he was the cause of said tension…okay, maybe he was. Indirectly. Really. He was sitting in a booth with Tamara and Stephanie, and the tension seemed to get worse by the second.

                Because they were both staring each other down like some sort of crazy showdown. Without the pistols and the entire stance, but that was probably safer. The restaurant’s patrons must have felt the tension too because nobody was seated near them. It was…unsettling.

                “Please, go first,” Steph nodded. Tamara smiled. It was tight, almost like a wince.

                “No, please. You first,” Tam declined and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. They were engaged in a long series of who should speak to Tim first.

                Tim actually didn’t know what was going on. He wasn’t even aware that Tam and Steph were close enough to hang out. But even if Tim did know what was up, it still wasn’t a comfortable thing to be under the same roof as both of his former girlfriends. Not coming wasn’t an option. Tam was just as terrifying as Steph even without knowing how to kick his ass.

                “Tim,” Steph barked suddenly.

                “Yes, Steph?” Tim said slowly. Carefully. There was an edge to her blue eyes that made Tim wary.

                “You’re wondering why you’re here, right?”

                Tim simply raised an eyebrow at her, unable to resist. He received a swift smack to the arm.

                “Don’t give me that,” Steph reprimanded as sharp as the smack. Tim rubbed his arm.

                “Yes,” Tim sighed. “Why else would I be sitting here?”

                “Because you thought it was a business meeting,” Tam answered straightly. That was true. Tim didn’t expect Steph to be here too. In fact—

                 “I wasn’t aware you—“

                  “—were close to each other,” Tam finished. She took a sip of her drink carefully. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know, Timothy Drake.”

                “It’s the purple, right?” Tim guessed. They both seemed to favor the color. Stephanie smacked him again. “It’s eggplant.”

                “Right,” Tim sighed. “Eggplant. Anyway, if you two aren’t going to tell me why I’m here, can I leave, please?”

                Tam kicked his shin from beneath the table.

                “Quiet, you. It’s because you keep interrupting us.”

                 Tim wisely didn’t point out the flaws he found in the statement with his evidenced backed.

                 “We,” Stephanie said loudly as she pointed at her and Tam, “are dating.”

                 “What?” Tim stared at them. On one hand, it was embarrassing to think his past love interests would get together. On the other hand, Tim flushed at the thought.

              “R-really?” He stuttered. “It’s f-fine if you are, I, um—“

               “Told you he got a perverted mind in there,” Steph said to Tam. Then, she looked at Tim and popped his fantasy. “Too bad it isn’t true.”

              Tim coughed as Tam looked pensive. “It would have been a beautiful relationship. Lots of purple involved, of course.”

              “I’m not perverted,” Tim protested even as his face reddened further. He had an idea what kind of purple things could be involved in their relationship, false or not.

               “Sure, you’re not.” Steph rolled her eyes. “He used to watch me sleep.”

               “And he broke into my hotel room. Several times,” Tam added. “Anyway, back to the point.”

                “Which is?” Tim wondered.

                 “You need to get laid,” Steph seriously. “And no, we’re not offering.”

                 Tim gaped at them instead of escaping like he should have done. He was subjected to several hours of love advice from Tam and Steph. They were the gurus of knowledge when it came to one Timothy Drake.


	80. Sailor Senshi Tam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Tam had to get involved with superheroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off Crim's Sailor Moon/DC crossover headcanon.

Tam sighed when the battle was over. She stood on a rooftop with Tim as the people below them returned to normal. Then, she turned and whacked Tim soundly on his upper arm with her scepter.

"You!"

"Ow! Tam!" Tim rubbed his arm, his suit was thin and it did nothing to protect smarting blows like his Red Robin costume. "What was that for?" 

"It's all your fault," Tam said. She crossed her arms, a tight line on her face.

"How is it my fault?" Tim argued, but he stepped back just in case Tam decided to hit him again.

"You." Tam uncrossed her arms and poked Tim hard in the chest. "Bought me that cat."

"Hey!" Luna was indignant. They ignored her swishing tail however.

"You wanted a cat!"

"Not a talking cat!"

Tim opened his mouth and then promptly closed it. He tried again.

"Um...so not like a Foxy Lady?"

Tam hit him again, grumbling. "This is what I get for being involved with you."

"I'm...um...sorry?" Tim said, edging away from her. He tried to hide behind Luna, but Luna padded over to Tam.

"And you make a terrible Tuxedo Mask. Seriously, where's the rose?"

"It's not as good as a batarang," Tim defended. This time he only narrowly avoided Tam's smack.


	81. Hearing Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off Phantom of the Opera-ish. Ra's/Tim

Tim hears it. He hears the soft tones and whispers against his ear. He hears it in his sleep,close and quiet, and it isn't really quite daring to be at Red Robin's side but a mere observing, studying with each syllable coasting, drifting into his ear.

Each murmured sentence follow the curve, the shell and whorl of his ear, content follow that set course to let Tim know someone is there. 

But when Tim wakes, stirs and sighs at sleep slipping, tip toeing away, he finds no one. And there is no one. Not on his feed, not one peep or sight of anyone or anything. He is puzzled, paranoid, makes the measure to catch with nothing to show for his efforts. 

It should make for an uneasy sleep, but each night the voice returns and sooths Draws Tim into a better slumber.

And the touches start, the faint movement in his hair. And it's so light to be wind brushing, breezing through an open window, but it isn't. Because Tim knows there is a hand loving his hair, a hand running through the strands, and the whispers tell him so.

Tells him of Tim's pale skin, scarred and beautiful. Tells him of his attributes and wonders, makes even his flaws a merit. And Tim hears the love, hears the care in that voice, silky and velvet and tender. Tim would be his.

And Tim doesn't know, doesn't hear the declaration of belonging always, because the voice lulls him to deeper slumber, better than Morpheus of his own realm.

_"You are mine, Detective. Always."_


	82. Three Fluffy Ra'sTim drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ra'sTim drabbles. Fluff.

**One.**

“I was under the impression you knew how to dance,” Ra’s commented as he spun Tim around and back. Tim smiled, a foot grinding down hard at Ra’s’ foot on the return.

“I had lessons when I was younger,” Tim admitted as they glided on the floor steadily and smoothly around a fourth of the room before Tim stumbled. Ra’s righted him with ease.

“Your teachers seemed to be quite poor,” Ra’s said and Tim stepped on his foot again.

“Hm, I suppose,” Tim said airily. “So, what are you doing here?”

“An associate invited me. I was more than delighted to discover your presence here,” Ra’s answered. He directed them past an ice sculpture, face calm and serene even as Tim continued to step on his feet.

“You just like my outfit.”

Tim was wearing a long dress, blue and shimmery. He was undercover to obtain some information. Then Ra’s spotted him and nudged himself into a waltz with Tim.

“I do, but I rather you in the attire you wore when we first met.”

“What?” Tim laughed a high society woman’s laughter. “That old thing? It’s hardly suitable.”

And he stepped on Ra’s’ foot again. In all honesty, Tim knew how to dance. He just wasn’t going to give Ra’s’ the satisfaction of an easy partner. Not when Ra’s’ scared off the man he needed to pry information from.

**Two.**

When Ra’s entered his study, he was surprised to see Red Robin sitting on his desk. The boy was perched in an almost careless manner, hands loosely gripped on the edge of the desk and legs swinging outward and back restlessly.

“Your meetings are way too long,” Timothy declared pointedly. Ra’s merely inclined his head in agreement. Then, “Timothy, what an unexpected pleasure. To what do I own your visit? Information for Batman?”

“Nope,” and Timothy’s lips went round, the sound hard and popping. They looked delectable. And Ra’s moved closer to the boy till he was standing right in front of him. Timothy stopped his leg kicking, opening his legs so Ra’s could come closer. Instantly a vision of white milky thighs crossed Ra’s thoughts. And Timothy was looking up at him with the most delicious looking expression, eyes half lidded and those lips soft and smooth.

“I thought it would be a change,” Timothy continued. “After all, you always grace me with a visit.”

“And what a delightful change it is,” Ra’s said as Tim wrapped his arms around Ra’s’ neck. There was a glitter of mischief in Timothy’s eyes.

“I also wanted to tell you I took out that base of yours in Argentina.”

**Three.**

                Tim clung to the ledge of the building, swearing to himself. He lost his grapple and there was nothing to save him from being killed if his grip failed. Tim looked down, trying to calculate the speed of the drop and any possible place he could grab onto as he fell or roll onto—

                His fingers slipped at that exact moment.

                To Tim’s surprise, he wasn’t dead. He was nestled quite firmly against someone who ensured they both landed safely on a rooftop a little lower in height than where he hung precariously.

                “That was dangerous, Detective,” Ra’s purred into his ear. “What would you have done if I had not been in the area?”

                Tim stared at him, gaping. Then he shook his head. “If you have been here all along, you could have helped me before I fell.”

                Ra’s looked amused at his grumble.

                “It would impede your effort to improve yourself if I helped you at every slight turn. Besides, I enjoy hearing you scream.”

                He set Tim down on the roof.

                “Of course you would,” Tim muttered. “Thank you.”

                Ra’s clucked his tongue. “That is not a proper way to show your gratitude.”

                Tim raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and how should I show it?”

                “I would suggest my bed, but you are so opposed to it. I will accept dinner as a suitable alternative.”


	83. A change of partnership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ra's should date Ivy, maybe. Ra's/Tim.

“You need to train your men better,” Tim said and punched one of the ninjas in the face. He went down. Tim smiled at the body before side stepping a blow from behind. That ninja too was knocked down swiftly. Ra’s raised an eyebrow, moving further into the room, closer to Tim.

“My men are well trained. You are better.”

Tim flipped backward over to Ra’s, using a third ninja as a springboard. “Disappointing, Ra’s. Very disappointing.”

Ra’s surveyed the room with a sigh. “Please tell me you did not destroy my base in Prague.”

Tim’s answer was a smirk. Ra’s waved his hand, sending the rest of the ninjas away.

“You are quite intent on making me lose profit. The last one in Argentina cost me millions. This will cost considerably more.”

“I know,” Tim said and the smirk changed into a smug tug of lips. “Maybe a change of partnership is in order. What do you think of Poison Ivy?”

“Poison Ivy?” Ra’s repeated, dumbfounded, as Tim cleared the comatose ninjas to one side of the room, lining them neatly in a row by the wall. “I do not think she suits your taste.”

Tim snorted. “Not for me. You. You are an eco-terrorist, right? I’m sure you’ll get along with her.”

Ra’s stared at Tim. Tim went on, ticking it off. “She loves the earth. You love the earth. She’s a villain, you are too. You both want to change the world…”

“Xi’an, Sofia, Windhoek. You may destroy the bases located there.”

“I already did. Two weeks ago."


	84. Batman!Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman!Tim is confronted with Ra's.

Tim feels the shift of air before he hears the rustle of fabric. His batarang is already embedded into the wall before Ra's speaks. From behind.

"Your city is magnificent."

Tim glances over his shoulders to see Ra's. He snorts and stalks forward to the wall.

"Is it?" Tim asks. He wrenches the batarang out of the wall and stows it away. Then, Tim turns. Ra's is by the ledge, looking over Gotham in all her brilliance at night. The cape is heavy as Tim moves to stand next to Ra's.

"It is," Ra's confirms when Tim is by his side. His eyes are dark with humour, and he grasps Tim's chin with a smooth easy movement. Ra's tilts Tim's head upward, and he smiles at the costume Tim wears now.

"And you are more than suitably attired for her, Detective."

Because Tim was Batman now. Batman when everyone had gone. It was Tim's personal hell.

"Only because she needs it." Tim reaches up with a hand, fingers tugging Ra's hand off. Even with added height in his boot, he was still shorter.

"You could always leave," Ra's suggests idly but they both know Tim won't take up that offer.

"Gotham needs a Batman," Tim intones. It is a statement dry and cold. There is a sharp gleam in Ra's' eyes as he slides out of the hold Tim has on his hand. He pulls Tim forward, and it is only a hand Tim brought up that keeps him from falling into Ra's completely. Tim trembles even as his hand is flat and still against Ra's chest.

"You have the use of my pits at your command," Ra's whispers into Tim's ear.

"I refuse," Tim says and lifts his eyes to look directly into Ra's'. "I couldn't anyway. There's nothing left."

He never wanted to be Batman. But there was no choice. All Tim could do was burn their bodies. Destroy everything that would allow him to clone them or revive them. He wouldn't allow that long ago vision to pass. He wouldn't let himself be  _that_.

"For you," Ra's deliberates. "But there is still my collection intact."

And Tim shakes further, eyes round and wide.

"No," Tim says.

"Yes," and Ra's is kissing Tim thoroughly. Madly.Tim takes it. He has been too long without affection.

Their kiss breaks only because they needed air.

"I won't," Tim says, panting. His hand is still fisted tightly on the front of Ra's' shirt.

"One day," Ra's clarifies and sweeps a thumb across Tim's bottom lips swollen and red. Then he hooks two fingers beneath the cowl. It's off and Tim feels as if he was a kid playing dress up. "You look far better in red in any case."

"I still wear red," Tim quips lightly. "Underwear. And I doubt there will be an one day."

Ra's laughs and it warms Tim. Tickles his heartstrings but Tim had his duty.

"You will need...," Ra's muses thoughtfully. "A robin."

Tim shakes his head. He knows better than to involve a child.

"I do not need one," he says but Ra's has a hand on the back of Tim's head. Ra's weaves his fingers through Tim's hair, stroking gently.

"You will have one regardless. You would not refuse our son."


	85. Pomengranate Seeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim refuses to be a Greek myth. Ra's/Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For stolidity.

  He was drunk on pomegranate seeds, ruby red and cold. They stained his lips and made him smile a wicked smile for the company he had.

                And Ra’s watched with greed with each seed slipped behind Tim’s stained lips. His eyes feasted on the slender white fingers, tips darken with crimson juice, and Tim smiled wider still. He sucked the nectar off a digit, slow and long, and knew he teased.

                “You stare too openly.”

                “I was not attempting subtly,” Ra’s replied. There was hunger in his voice, deep and sinful. Tim crushed another seed in his mouth and swallowed the bitter pith.

                “That explains the blatant kidnapping.” Tim licked his lips, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his legs, crossed them as if he was female, as he fingered and left purple red on the white fabric. “But I’m not a Persephone.”

                “Are you not?” Ra’s asked. Tim was sharp teeth as he uncrossed and re-crossed his legs. He was too pale for the white of the robe Ra’s provided him with.

                “I’m not that stupid,” Tim stated.

                “I should hope not.”

                “And,” Tim continued, “you are positively stupid.”

                “You are unaware of your charms.”

                “No,” Tim denied. “If I were, I wouldn’t bait you.”

                He leaned forward, and his smile was sharper still. “Tell me. How much are you willing to lose?”

                “Two,” Ra’s answered blithely.

                “Five,” Tim countered.

                “You will rob me blind—three and I won’t have my men in pursuit when you leave.”

                “Agreed.”

                And Tim pressed his lips, stained red and dark, to Ra’s’ hand. Kissed the palm there and each finger too. He tasted the salt in contrast to the sweet of the seeds he ate.

               “I would have you stay forever,” Ra’s breathed heavily. His pupils were wide with lust.

               “Never,” and Tim dragged a tongue up to hard knuckles and to the bony prominence at the wrist.

                “In the winter months.”

               Their lips met, and Tim was drunk on pomegranate seeds, ruby red and cold.

               “Maybe,” Tim answered when they pulled apart. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips were swollen, not just red stained. He reached for another seed lazily and popped it into his mouth.

                “I refuse to live a myth.”


	86. JasonDickBruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JasonDickBruce. Mature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For stinajy.

   Dick couldn’t quite hide his smile as Bruce slipped a kiss onto his temple.

                “You’re smiling,” Bruce pointed out but his normally stern face was hiding the hint of a smile in lip corners as well. It only made Dick grin wider, but that smile dropped from his mouth into a round circle. A low moan issued from deep down his throat. Because Jason’s fingers were wrapping around his knee and Bruce was kissing his temple again, tongue gliding down his cheek to jawline.

                “Who wouldn’t smile?” Jason said roughly. “He’s got it good here.”

                And he nipped the inner flesh of Dick’s thigh before his mouth settled down to suck and lick. Dick’s hand slid across Bruce’s shoulder to bicep, eyes closing.

                “Yeah,” Dick groaned, agreeing. His fingers tangled in Bruce’s locks as Jason edged a finger beneath the band of his underwear, mouth still hot and wet.

                He totally had it good.


	87. Chapter 87

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Implied JayTimDick.
> 
> Damian interrupts the older brothers without meaning to.

"Are you smoking?" Damian demanded to know and Jason threw an annoyed glance at him. 

"I'm lighting a stick for fire," Jason retorted and suited action to the words as he easily lighted his cigarette.

"You are--"

"Shut it, kid." Jason stuck a middle finger up at him and the cigarette dangled from his mouth as he reach down to tug at his boots.

"But you are disrespecting your body and making yourself unfit for patr--" Damian persisted but was cut off as Tim came stumbling in through the door.

"Fuck, what are you doing here, replacement?" Jason demanded to know. He flung a boot at him which Tim didn't manage to dodge.

"Ow! You know what I'm here for, like I always..." Tim trailed off as he saw Damian sitting on the couch.

"Damian?"

"Tt--Drake," and Damian crossed his arms.

"What's he doing here?" Tim looked at Jason. Jason looked back, unamused.

"Kid got banged up side the head. Couldn't let him go."

"What?" And Tim was crossing the room to examine Damian's head.

"Oh stop," Damian said, inching away from Tim with his hand up in the air. "As if I would get hit in the head. I merely wanted to confirm Todd hasn't been addled in the brain, but he clearly is."

Damian sniffed as Jason inhaled and breathed out a deep ring of smoke.

"He's smoking."

Tim sighed and slumped onto the couch next to Damian. "Right. Are you going to be okay to get back to the manor?"

"Yes, but I'm not leaving yet."

"Damian," Tim said sternly.

"He's ruining his health!" Damian pointed out. Jason continued to smoke. He had taken off his domino mask now, and he had a beer in his hand.

Tim rubbed his temple exasperatedly. 

"I'll deal with it."

"As if I can entrust you with that task," Damian frowned. Jason snorted.

"Kid, go home. Tim -- the goods came yesterday so tonight we can--"

Jason's words were broken off by Dick's tumble through the window. Tim groaned at that. 

"Of course," Tim muttered.

"What the hell? Is it a goddamn party here?" But Jason didn't have a boot to toss at Dick.

Dick shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry, Jay. Thought I was going to be late and -- Damian?"

"Kid just dropped in," Jason said gruffly. 

"But," Dick said and eyed Damian with a cautious glance. "Another night?"

"Yeah," Tim said and ran a hand through his hair.


	88. stash of porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph lies about Tim's porn.

“Hey,” and Tim blinked. Because Stephanie was in his room. On his bed. Wearing the biggest innocent grin on her face.

And he was suspicious. “You did something, didn’t you?”

“No. I can’t just be with my favorite boy wonder?” Stephanie asked as she propped her chin up with a hand, elbow digging into the mattress. Tim winced at that. He was going to have a dent in it, and he hated the unevenness of it all.

Tim shrugged off his cowl and removed his cape, throwing it on the back of his chair.

“The demon boy’s at Colin’s house.”

Stephanie didn’t even twitch. “Already saw the brat. He told me to quit stuffing my bra.”

“You should,” Tim agreed even though he knew that wasn’t true. In truth, he had helped Stephanie padded her costume so it would protect a little more. And give her support. Back problems were no jokes in their line of work even if it was just from enormous breasts.

He dodged as Stephanie threw a pillow at him.

“Jerk,” she complained. “You’re not fun at all.”

Tim’s lips twitched. He wasn’t deterred one bit.

“Now, what did you do, Steph?” Tim asked again.

“Seriously, I can’t visit my favorite boy wonder.” Stephanie flopped down on the bed dramatically, rolling onto her back, hands on her heart. “You wound me, Tim.”

“I’m sure,” Tim said dryly. He took off his gauntlets and wriggled his fingers. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

“I felt like visiting?”

“Steph, you always feel like visiting. It doesn’t matter what I do, you’ll just waltz in and eat all my food even if I tell you not to.”

“I do not! Your health junk tastes nasty by the way.” And Stephanie hopped off the bed. Her next words were rushed. “Anyway, Imayhaveaccidnetaly”

It trailed into a mumble.

“You did what?!”

“Told Dick that you had a secret stash of porn and—“

Tim groaned. “Is this why Dick has been leaving packets of condoms in my room?”

“May-be.”


	89. Chapter 89

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass wants Tim and Steph back together. She tries to set them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 535\. Cassandra wants Tim and Steph to be back together and often tries to set them up. Sometimes she'll invite both of them to go on patrol with her, then bail at the last minute, leaving them to patrol together.  
> \---------Batfamily headcanon from tumblr

"You again, boy wonder?" Stephanie quipped when Tim landed onto the rooftop next to her. Tim snorted and he bopped her on the head lightly.

"It's Red Robin."

As Tim scanned the city's horizon, Stephanie's eyes went wide and round.

"Seriously? I didn't get the memo on that! Does Damian know? He's going to rag you about taking his name."

Tim turned to glare at her. "Batgirl..."

And Stephanie threw up her hands in mock apology. "Fine, fine. I'll stop you boring idiot."

"Haha, because you're so very funny," Tim replied. "Where's Cass? There's a disturbance in Chinatown and one by the docks."

"Not sure," Stephanie hummed. "She was kind of vague. Dibs on the docks. Illegal shipment, sounds exciting."

"You do know she's trying to set us up, right?" Tim asked as he took out his grapple and checked it. "And no, that's not exciting at all."

"That's only because you think you can snag Lynx," Stephanie shot back. She took out her grapple too. "Otherwise I would take Chinatown. I'll let you make your pitiful attempt though."

"You think I can't?" 

"You're the Boy Virgin," Stephanie replied back. "I'll probably get Lynx before you do."

Tim sighed. "Maybe we should just make Cass happy then."

"Wh--"

Stephanie was cut off as Tim pressed a quick kiss to her lips before swinging off.

"You jerk! If you think you can go for Lynx after kissing me, you got another thing coming."

She was so going to nab that girl and put her somewhere far, far away from Tim.


	90. Because he needs a hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steph gives Tim a hug. He needs one.

 “ _Boyfriend_.” Steph’s smile was sweet. Way too sweet. That meant danger, and Tim could feel his skin prickling in warning at how wide that smile was.

                “Yes?” He asked cautiously. Steph’s grin was even wider now.

                “When was the last time you touched anyone?”

                “Um…”

                Steph aimed for his legs, and Tim side stepped them smoothly. He didn’t expect the blow to his face however. He  _never_  did. And with that, Steph caught him enough off guard to topple him onto the bed.

                Tim rubbed his cheek with a grimace. The skin was pink and it would probably leave a bruise. “Did you really have to hit me?”

                “Only when you stop getting a boner from it,” Steph retorted, squashing him down with her weight.

                “Steph!”

                “Jeez, relax, Tim!” Steph huffed and propped her chin with her elbow digging into Tim’s chest. “Take a chill pill.”

                “Some of us have work to do,” Tim pointed out as he tried to maneuver Steph’s pointy elbow off him.

                “What you need is a hug,” Steph declared, finally relenting to put her elbow down. “And don’t give me that look—you’re being all twitchy again.”

                Tim looked down and groaned. His hands were shaking.

                “Steph…”

                “Shush,” Steph said and wrapped her arms around Tim. Tim sighed and hugged her back.

                “Cuddle time?”

                “Thirty minutes.” There was a tone in her voice that said Tim better shut up and agree.

                “I’m holding you to that.”


	91. Timcest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timcest. Or BruceTim sleeps with himself.

****

This is based on Blue's Bruce as Tim's verse. Found [here](http://bluethursday.tumblr.com/post/28952824818/bruce-tim-wayne) and [here](http://bluethursday.tumblr.com/post/29016734794/bruce-tim-wayne-birds). And also because Hearts and all those people are writing Tim-cest. So, it got mixed up in my head. And this came out of it. Enjoy.

 

_\----------------------_

_“Sparrow,” Tim said to Bruce. He has chosen._

And Bruce (Tim) laughed inside. Laughed and laughed in his throat to choke. Because he was never a sparrow.

(Only a robin dyed red once upon a lifetime)

_“It’s perfect,” he told his younger self, nodding his head and burying the choke. Tim preened at the praise, cheeks flushed pink and light._

 And what a blush that was to grace those cheekbones. Bruce saw the beauty in that body, delicate and fragile. Saw the beauty no one else saw and it was egotism at its finest.

Bruce (Tim) wanted it.

_“Bruce,” and the boy looked up at him with blue, blue eyes. “I’m not a Wayne.”_

 That made it all right. Because he wasn’t Tim. He was Bruce.

Tim was pinned, arms spread like wings on the bed, lovely and sweet. And it was Bruce who smiled into the curve of that shoulder. Smiled into the curve and into the hair, mouth trailing and seeking. Tasting himself on that skin. Tasted himself so thoroughly that Tim might never have been him at all.

_“I’m Bruce Wayne,” he smiled at the cameras and reporters. “Welcome…”_

Tim’s back arched and Bruce met it. Met with ease, rough hands to soft less scarred flesh. Met it with kisses and melting touches, long and soothing.

_“I won’t let him be hurt, Alfred. Not when I know.” And Bruce steals him away, Timmy a child with a camera._

Because Bruce would make Tim loved. Would have him be loved. (He knew what it was to be denied).

Tim gasped and cried and moaned, tremors and quivers from being stroked. It wasn’t really skill that Bruce brought to the table but intimate knowledge of exactly how to play himself.

(He was his worst enemy after all)

Bruce wasn’t a sparrow. And he wasn’t Tim.

_“I love you,” Tim murmured, but Bruce was silent._

Bruce (Tim) whispered back, “I love you” only when Tim is asleep.

He was Bruce after all.


	92. he wishes he wasn't happy

Tim wishes he wasn't happy. He wishes he wasn't because when he's not happy, when he goes back to not being happy, it's always much worse. It's always a stab to the gut and bile rises till he just wants to choke and throw up.

No, Tim wishes he wasn't happy. Because right now he was happy. He was happy with Jason and Dick and even Damian. He was happy right where he was. And then this.

And the feeling came crashing back down. And it hurts. Because he was so happy he forgot this pain, but now...he feels it. He feels it, remembers it. Familiar in its grip and Tim wishes he wasn't happy. It would hurt a hell lot less.


	93. Happy memories always

"Hey, you okay?" Dick asked, hand reaching out. But Tim backed away from the hand.

"Yeah," Tim said. "I'm good."

He forced a smile on his face, made it natural. 

"Aw, just leave him," Jason called from the couch. "Are we going to finish watching or not?"

Damian was next to Jason, and he was scowling but...

"I think I'm going to sleep early," Tim said. 

"Okay," Dick said, still looking worried.

And Tim walked down the hall. But instead of going to his room, he went down to the cave to go through the database.

Because the entire scene that just happened was happy. Mostly happy. The four of them watching a movie while Alfred popped in every now and then with Bruce coming at the end.

_It happened a year ago._

And Tim couldn't figure out what was wrong as he frantically searched through the data and files. He couldn't figure out why he was reliving this memory, stuck here. It could be magic. It could be hallucinatory. It could be a lot of things but Tim couldn't figure it out. And he needed to solve this before he couldn't handle it.

Because figuring how or why wasn't a problem. 

It was this happy memory. And Tim knew it was false. It happened once, but it was false now. Because Tim hadn't had many happy days since. And it hurt to go through this scene over and over again.


	94. Rewrite!Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rewriting Tim to fit the new52 storyline attempt.

"I'm proud of you."

The words sounded in his head as Tim flipped himself off the vault. It was disconcerting enough that TIm stumbled and screwed up his landing. Not that it mattered. His parents were in the Witness Protection program, and he was with Bruce Wayne though the man was gone somewhere at the moment. There was no one to see his error, and if there was anything to witness the shoddy dismount it was the camera embedded and concealed in the high bar on the opposite side of the room.

Tim snorted to himself and placed his hands on the handles. He started again. The routine was a long one and tedious. He hated it. He hated all of it, but when he landed this time it was perfect.

"I'm proud of you."

His mind conjured up a visual of his parents, standing at the side of the mat. They would cheer and beam. Because he was a good son. Good in that he brought them recognition. Not because he was Tim. Not because they loved him. Their support were as false as the charming Brucie personality Bruce used.

Tim gulped down some water and stared at the clock. It was only a hour of practice so far. He was bored. He wished he never took up gymnastics. It made Tim think it would have been far better to be neglected. Neglected, and he knew where he stood. It was painful then at five.

But he saw the circus. Saw a boy in blue near his own age practiced on the trapeze -- Tim still claimed he wandered into the Flying Graysons' tent by accident -- and saw the love and adoration that boy got from his parents when he flew. So, Tim took up a sport. Took up gymnastics.

His parents' love weren't as pure.

Tim glanced at the clock. Only another hour had passed and he wished he could trying to be Dick Grayson. Tim drank some more water and wiped the sweat from his brow. He hated this. If he could be on his computer or laptop, he could do something more useful. Maybe do something similar to the Penguin or that school embezzlement thing. Get yelled at by Batman perhaps, and Tim smiled wryly to himself.

Yelled at by Batman. That wasn't fun, but it at least distracted the man a little. Tim could pretend to enjoy gymnastics, pretend he dreamed of being an Olympic athlete or that he wanted to be Robin. Tim could pretend to be cocky and arrogant. It helped when dealing with reporters anyway for Drake Industries or his own performances as an Olympic contender. But Tim could pretend, really pretend. He lived his life to fit others. If Batman needed a cocky kid that didn't manage to figure out his identity, that was slightly like Jason -- Tim would fulfill it.

Batman needed a Robin though he served as Red Robin.

"I'm proud of you."

The line went through his mind once more. There was nothing to be proud of. Tim lived as Tim Drake, as Red Robin, as Tim the Olympic potential and as Bruce Wayne's ward.

He didn't live as Tim.


	95. Mute!Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim becomes mute. Based off Miss Pro's headcanon/idea.

Based off Miss Pro’s idea on [mute!Tim](http://protagonistically.tumblr.com/post/36192249540/fic-idea). I couldn’t resist. Surprisingly enough, no dialogue. A rarity for me. Well, hope it passes.

\----------

He was stupid. He was stupid for getting caught, but they were wrong. Tim would not be easy to break even if he cried or screamed. Not easy at all, and he bares his teeth. Shows the white and the sharp, and they just don’t get it.

It’s right in front of them.

They press him for answers. Probe and pry for secrets taken to the grave. But Tim is a liar. Has been lying for most of his life. And he lies here too before they get wise.

They still don’t get it.  _It’s right in front of them._

Tim smiles and bares his teeth. There is only one answer.

When they—his family—find him, they find him with his mouth closed tight, wet and shiny. There is blood. Blood on the floor, blood down his chin and it really isn’t a whole lot of blood. There should have been for the price paid.

Tim’s mouth is shut. Shut tight and good, and when they touch him he shakes. He shakes and trembles and refuses to open his mouth. He doesn’t answer their questions, and he doesn’t speak. Not even when Bruce orders him in Batman’s voice. Tim stares at them, watches them with eyes round and wide.

And when they ask what happened, his lips pull up into a smile, strained. Dick tries to smile back, but it’s hard because Tim’s mouth is still pressed into a thin line, clamped and closed.

It is Damian who points out the lump of flesh in Tim’s clenched palm. Bruce forces his mouth open, and there is a bloody stump in the space, teeth stained pinkish red.

Tim smiles wider at them, mouth wet and shiny and the blood glares at them. He would do it again.

They take him home, Bruce at the wheel and Silence. The tongue—Tim’s tongue—rests in Dick’s hands where it’s carefully wrapped and protected.

Alfred treats him. Treats the cuts and the bruises and every injured part. Tim pats him awkwardly and smiles a wordless thanks. Alfred—Alfred doesn’t cry, he’s too good for that. He tucks Tim into bed instead of Dick tongue.

His tongue is sent to the Fortress for keeping. Clark promises to let them know when and if it can be reattached. The tongue is already too long gone for normal reattachment. Tim quakes with silent laughter at that. A piece of his organ sits in alien fluids. In a jar at the Fortress. How was that not funny?

A week passes without word. It is startlingly normal. Tim never spoke all that much at the manor. Bruce realizes it when he asks Tim’s opinion on a WE issue, and Tim hands him a ten page document, outlining every point and side. That was the standard. Bruce can’t recall what Tim’s voice sounds like.

Tim shrugs it off and goes to Cass for company. She could always read him. He gets tired of the look, and the guilt and the—Cass makes it easy for him.

There were worse things than being mute.


	96. Rigged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The batboys play mahjong.

  Tim stares at the tiles in his hand. The smooth fat rectangle blocks are green on top and white on the bottom. He runs an index finger down the line in his hand, thinking carefully. If he discarded this one…

                “Five sticks,” Tim says, taking out the piece with five bamboo sticks on it and sliding it across the table to the middle where all the other discarded pieces are.

                “Fish!” Dick crows and scoops up the piece Tim just threw out. He places it with the other three identical pieces from his hand. Tim curses. He just lost three points. Everybody started out with twenty five points accounted for by colored chips. The one who lost the most points would have to do something for the one with the most points. And Tim was currently on a losing streak.

                Dick threw out an eight circle. The next few rounds through all the players were calm. Then, Tim threw out East.

                Jason slammed his titles for display with a hearty “I win”, a smug deep on his face. Tim narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

                “No way. You rigged this!” Tim accuses. He pulls open his drawer and sighs at the pitifully small pile of chips left.

                “Fair’s fair,” Jason says. “Hand over your chips.”

                Damian snorts from the left of Tim.

                “You have such a lack of skill, Drake,” he sneers. He currently had the most points. “Do you even know what strategy is?”

                “Nah,” Dick interrupts as he collects the chips he won from Tim. “He’s just super unlucky.”

                “It’s a wonder you haven’t lost all your chips yet,” Jason says. He takes the chip from Tim with glee, flipping it in his hand. Tim grumbles and counts his loss. He was down to eight points.

                “I request a cat,” Damian says eyeing Tim’s pile of chips with a smirk. “And it better have all the fixings—the toys, a year’s worth of food.”

                “You haven’t won yet,” Tim protests. He cracks his hands. “We still have a few rounds left before patrol.”

                “Tt—I am winning,” Damian says but he moves his hands to dismantle the rows. They shuffled the tiles, the noise ricocheting in the room loudly.

                Several rounds later, Tim swears. He is down to two points, and Jason had the most points now. He glares at Jason.

                “What do you want?” He half growls.

                “Don’t know yet,” Jason crows. “But you bet it’ll be big.”

                Dick pats Tim on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’ll be too bad,” and he grins widely as Damian scowls at coming in second. Tim stays his seat, putting the tiles away in the box as the other three leave first for patrol. That’s when he notices the tiles are off.

“I’m going to kill those two,” Tim says, fuming. They were rigging it the entire time.qu


	97. Chapter 97

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 285\. Tim once accidentally watched Steph and Cass take showers after working out. Tim was fixing an issue with a water heater in the cave when the girls walked in, stripped down, and started bathing. He was so shocked and surprised that he couldn't move. Afterwards, the only think Tim could think was how surprised he was that Cass washed from the bottom up while Steph started at her chest, worked her way down, and then washed her hair and face. He was bothered by how inefficient it was.  
> \------Batfamily headcanon from tumblr

Most normal men would be excited, happy by the fact there were two girls, two hot girls, taking a shower AND they have the opportunity to see it all. Live. In person. So close it wasn't even funny. But Tim?

       This wasn't even remotely exciting. He was trying to fix the water heater, and he was so concentrated he didn't even noticed that Cass and Steph were back, stripping until he heard the water running. He nearly dropped his wrench, watching in surprised, frozen into a statue.

       "Yes!" Stephanie said and then she shrieked. It was ear piercing to Tim's ear, and he cursed mentally. Wondering if he could sneak out. Cassandra looked at Stephanie, face calm. "Steph?"

       Stephanie shivered. "Water's cold. I forgot -- the heater's broken."

      "Oh." And Cassandra stepped into the spray of icy water without flinching. Stephanie looked at her enviously before shrugging. "I guess we'll have to deal."

       And Tim just watched, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do. Then, Stephanie lathered up a poof and started at her chest, working bubbles. And Tim stared. Not at the chest. But at the action. Cassandra, on the other hand, started scrubbing her feet with soap, moving upward.

     The wrench slipped from his hand, and it made a loud clatter against the wet tiles. And instantly, the two girls were upon him.

     "Tim!" Stephanie half shouted. "What do you think you're doing?"

      Cassandra eyed him with a level stare, and Tim swallowed hard. 

     "I-I think," he stuttered. "You could wash your body in a more efficient manner."

 


	98. Alfred's Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys fight to get to Alfred's kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off incogneat-oh's headcanon.

There was only one thing in mind when Jason came sneaking into the Manor and that was Alfred's cooking. He always had the best food, and he always had extra. It made Jason's mouth salivate just thinking about it. He could take some with him when he left. But unfortunately, Jason didn't account for Tim.

The words were barely half way out of his mouth when Jason crashed into Tim three feet away from the kitchen door.

"Hey Alf, have you got any--"

They fell to the floor in a tangled heap.

"Fuck!" Jason said as he struggled to extricate himself from Tim. "Can't you watch where you're going, Replacement?"

"You're the one who bumped into me," Tim snapped. He pulled his arm out from underneath Jason's back. "What are you even doing here anyway?"

"I can go anywhere I want."

"You're here for Alfred's cooking, aren't you?" Tim asked, quickly cluing in to Jason's presence in the manor. This corridor led to one place only and that was Alfred's kitchen. 

Jason snorted, "as if you aren't. Don't think I don't know what--"

Jason's words were cut off by the sounds of footsteps hurrying towards their direction. The steps had a bounce to them in rhythm. Tim paled as he registered the pattern, and he started wriggling.

"Oh no," Jason muttered, moving as well. "I'm not dealing with that."

Jason quickly freed himself and sat up, but it was too late.

"Hey Alfred--"

And with that Dick tripped over them. Tim groaned as the weight of Dick and Jason's bodies combined pressed him harder into the ground.

"Dick! Get off!" Tim tried to shove both Dick and Jason off of him with little success. Jason grunted in agreement.

"You're freaking heavy. What have you been eating?"

"Just cereal," Dick replied as he tried to move a leg. "Haven't had Alfred's cooking in ages."

"Shit! You kneed me!" Jason cursed as Dick slipped and a leg came crashing down hard.

"Sorry," Dick apologized, but there was a slight grin on his face. "Accident."

"Accident my--"

"Shut up," Tim said wincing. "I can barely breathe with you two--"

There was a moment of silence as a well toned ahem sounded above them. Alfred looked down at them.

"You are in my way," Alfred said calmly. He lifted one leg gracefully, stepping over them. "And if you three are done cozying to the floor, I have chocolate chips cookies."

Alfred smiled to himself. His boys were home, and it wouldn't be a minute to get Master Damian down to the kitchen.


	99. Sailor Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off lowsodiumsalt's headcanon. The boys transform into their costumes.

"Here," Dick passed something to Damian. It was a small compact with a stylized R on it.

"What is this?" Damian frowned.

"It's for your costume," Dick explained with a grin. "This is mine."

He showed Damian his compact with the Nightwing symbol on it.

Damian fingered the compact in his hand. 

"What is its purpose?" Damian questioned. He wondered if it was a bomb or an emergency signal.

"No. It's your costume!" Dick smiled widely. "As in it literally is your costume. It's new. Bruce was developing it for easier costume change."

Damian stared at Dick. "Please tell me you are joking, Grayson."

"I'm not," Dick denied. "Let me show you."

He literally hopped to his feet. He stood straight with his feet apart. He held the compact out, arm outstretched.

"Nightwing, suit up!"

There was a brilliant flash of blue light and sparkles as Dick was slowly encased in his Nightwing costume.

Dick grinned and posed at the end of it.

Damian chucked his compact at Dick. This was beyond ridiculous.


	100. Sailor Boys - the Reaction

Jason gritted his teeth. "No way. I'm not going to use it."

"Aw, but come on, Jay," Dick whined. "It's so easy to use."

He shoved the compact shaped like a Red Hood into Jason's hands. "It's just one press of a button."

"It is only a press of a button," Tim nodded. He was sitting on top of Jason's desk. He came along with Dick to give Jason his compact. Damian, next to Tim, narrowed his eyes at Jason.

"If I have to suffer this humiliation, you will as well."

"Like I care, brat," Jason huffed. He tossed the compact into the trashcan in the far corner with perfect aim.

"Jason!" Dick was scandalized. It was expensive just to produce one.

"No." Jason crossed his arms.

"Oh, for god's sakes," Tim interrupted. He jumped off the desk and went to the trashcan, wrinkling his nose as he fished the compact out.

"Just do it, Todd." Damian said crossly.

"No way in hell!"

"I'll demonstrate," Tim said. He got into position.

"I don't need to," Jason groaned. "I've already seen Dick do it, and it's enough."

Seriously, the sparkles and the blueness was more than horrifying. Tim just looked at him pointedly. He pressed the compact. And he was suited up in Jason's Red Hood costume. 

Jason and Damian stared. It was normal?

Tim scoffed in the helmet. "He's pulling your leg. Dick just likes the sparkles and theatrics."

"I am going to maim you," Damian said, shooting a glare at Dick. Dick just grinned.

"Sparkles are awesome."

"Says the guy with a disastrous love for feathers," Jason quipped. "You can hand it over to me, Replacement."

"No. You threw it in the trash. It's mine."


	101. Who wants to celebrate his birthday?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off Ciphre's plotbunny. Tim didn't realize his family would celebrate his birthday.

Tim stared at his clock. It was seven minutes past eight. That meant he only had three more hours and fifty three minutes to go before his birthday was officially over. It was not like he was expecting anything anyway. He didn’t even want to celebrate it.

            A minute past by, and Tim sighed. Three hours and fifty two minutes left. He cracked his neck and returned to his typing. Those reports weren’t going to write themselves, but there was a sudden loud series of knock on his door. Each knock becoming increasingly more frantic and louder. Tim’s mouth went dry. Did something happen?

            He rushed to the door, half knocking over his chair in his haste. He opened the door and was stunned to see Dick armed with three boxes of pizza—

            “Dick? What are you doing here?”

            --Because he was definitely not expecting anything. Dick winked at him as he barged his way through the door past Tim. And Tim's fingers shook at the implication of Dick standing there.

            “Hey, Tim. Just let me put these down first.”

            He hadn’t seen Dick in over a month and a half. He hadn’t even answered the message Dick left in his voice mail. Because even if Dick said he loved him (how could you forget to love someone), it wasn’t—

            “O-okay,” he stuttered as Dick grinned some more, a bounce to his steps.

            --And Tim gaped as Jason shouldered his way through, following Dick with a case of beer and bags of chips. His fingers shook some more, and Tim curled up his hands to hide the tremors. Because this wasn’t actually happening, but Jason was there. And Damian and…

            “Like he said,” Jason muttered. Then, “you’ve made it another year, replacement. Make another one.”

            “Uh, thanks?” Tim tried to keep his body still as he glanced at the clock. It was only three more hours and fifty minutes left before the day was over. He almost flinched when Damian walked up. He shoved a party hat at Tim. Tim took it with fumbling hands.

             “Congratulations, Drake,” Damian said. Then he gestured to the party hat in Tim’s hand. “Wear this and do not remove it. Grayson demanded it.”

            And Tim watched as Dick cleared the coffee table to set down the pizza. Jason dropped his baggage on the floor as Damian took a stoic stance and sat on the couch. This was strange, odd. He couldn’t decide whether to feel happy or glad, and Tim glanced at the clock again, wishing time would tick faster.

            “B’s going to drop by once he’s done at WE,” Dick explained. “Got your favorite.”

            He cracked open the lid of the pizza for Tim to see. Canadian bacon and onions with artichoke hearts.

            “I see,” Tim said and swallowed hard. He didn’t know Dick remembered that. Then, Tim dropped the party hat onto the ground. This was a little too much. And before he could think, Tim bolted out the front door while they were still occupied.

            Five blocks later, Tim’s motorcycle screeched into a halt. Because there was a familiar car in his way. The window rolled down to reveal Bruce. He looked at Tim curiously.

            “Tim? I was just on my way to your apartment.”

            Tim froze and stared at Bruce.

            “I, well, I-I…”

            Bruce turned off the engine and got out of his car. He closed the door with softly as he added, “Alfred’s bringing cake. What are you doing?”

            Tim turned white, and he could barely breathe as Bruce looked at him. Because this was—

            “Tim? Are you okay?” And Bruce was leaning in.

            --Tim shook his head dumbly. “I’m—I’m not okay!”

            His mouth slammed shut at the words, but it was like a dam that broke and Tim couldn’t stop it.

            “I’m not. I don’t know what to do. Dick—and they are—at my place. And, and it’s…I was sad. And I wasn’t expecting anything, I really wasn’t and I mean, you have patrol. And, and—“

            Bruce placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

            “Calm down, Tim. Breathe.”

            Tim closed his eyes and counted to ten, breathing. Bruce was rubbing slow circles into his back, and when he opened his eyes, he cracked a small smile at Bruce.

            “Sorry. I just…I’m okay.”

            “Tim. It’s fine.” Bruce smiled at him. “I know you haven’t had the easy time. So if you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

            And Tim talked. Talked for an hour. Talked until Dick called Bruce, panicking. Bruce told Dick they were on their way.

            It actually wasn’t too bad of a birthday in the end. Alfred always made the best cakes, but this one seemed even better than usual.

            “Blow out the candles, Tim,” Damian said with a scowl on his features when Tim just stared at the candles. “We don’t have all night.”

            Jason slung an arm around Damian. “Your stupid older brother always takes a long time—probably making a wish.”

            And Tim blew out the candles. Everything was okay.


	102. Rainbow Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rainbow Cake for Tim's birthday.

"Why do I have to do this, Grayson?" Damian demanded to know as Dick puttered around in the kitchen. Alfred was gone, and Dick was making the happy use of the kitchen. In which happy meant making an entirely giant mess. He stared forlornly at the bowl of red batter that Dick pushed into his hands.

"Because it's fun!" Dick exclaimed as he mixed his own bowl of green batter. Jason snorted into a bowl of orange colored batter as Stephanie cheerfully, enthusiastically stirred her own respective bowl. The batter was purple, of course.

"Cheer up, Damian," Stephanie said. "We're almost done."

And she tipped her batter into an oiled pan. Cassandra, next to her, quietly poured out her own batter (plain old yellow) into a second cake pan.

"Can't we just buy a cake?" Damian persisted. He prodded at his batter.

"We could," Dick said. "But there won't be any love in it."

"I have no love to give," Damian said flatly. He gave up and pressed the batter into Stephanie's hand. Stephanie accepted it, amused, and gave it a final check before pouring it into a pan.

"And you think I do?" Jason called out. He opened the oven door, sliding in the pans one by one.

"I promise it'll be worth it," Dick said. "How often do we get to do this?"

He glided over to Jason's side. Jason slapped his hand. "Don't. I don't need you blowing up the kitchen."

"I won't," Dick protested. Jason glared at him.

"No. Touching."

"Let him touch it," Damian suggested. "Then we can buy a cake."

"And waste our efforts? No way!" Stephanie disagreed. Cassandra silently passed the blue batter pan to Jason.

\---------

Tim stared at the plate. It was...interesting. It was an oddly misshaped bat cake with the words "Happy Birthday Tim" scrawled across it in white icing. He looked up at his family in a semi-circle before him.

"Thanks you guys. I appreciate the effort."

Dick was bouncing on his toes. "See, he likes it"

Then, "wait till you see the inside!"

"It's a rainbow," Damian said and Stephanie shushed him. "You're not supposed to tell him!"

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Rainbow?"

"Yeah," Jason said. "Happy birthday, baby bird."

He smashed Tim's face right into the cake.

"JASON!" 

At that moment, Alfred and Bruce walked in. Bruce sighed as a cake covered Tim chased Jason. Alfred merely looked at the debacle, saying, "I prepared an extra cake before we left, Master Bruce. I had a feeling something of this matter would occur. I only hope my kitchen is still salvageable."


	103. Boobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim cross-dresses with Steph's and Damian's snarky comments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Vare.

“Alfred made these too big again,” Tim complained as he adjusted the fake mounds in front of his chest.

Damian eyed them critically. “In comparison to Brown’s, it’s adequate.”

 “Oh, so you have been looking at my chest,” Stephanie quipped. She gave Tim’s hair a quick comb.

Damian stiffened. “How am I supposed to ignore your enormous mammary glands when you keep stuffing them?”

Tim groaned before Stephanie could replied. “I just want to know what Alfred used to make these. They’re heavy.”

Tim made a face because he was starting to understand the problems of large breasts and backaches. Stephanie laughed and patted him on the back.

"Get used to it, boy wonder. You don't have to live with them."

“Tt—whining over something this simple,” Damian added. He picked up the shiny silver purse on the table and shoved it into Tim’s hand. “He will be in the far right corner of the room wearing—“

“A top hat with a red feather. I know,” Tim interrupted. “You don’t need to tell me twice.”

Damian nodded. “Fatgirl and I will be on the roof doing surveillance.”

Tim nodded as he rubbed his back with one hand. They were seriously heavy. “And meet on the second floor in the room closest to the stairway.”

“Correct,” Damian said. “And would you cease rubbing your back? Or do you want to blow your cover?”

“I’m just not used to it,” Tim said. “Why couldn’t Stephanie have done this?”

“I don’t have your pearly white skin,” Stephanie joked. “Now, move.”

“If I don’t trip over my breasts,” Tim grumbled.


	104. Chapter 104

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred meets tiny Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Ari.

Tim hid his camera behind his back as an elderly man stepped up to him.  _What was he going to do?_ He thought in dismay.

          Because Tim was five and he wasn’t supposed to be outside. He tried not to cringe as the man stooped down to his level.

                “Hello young sir,” the man said. He smiled gently.

                “He-hello,” Tim said shyly. He backed up into the brick wall behind him.

                “May I ask if your name is Timothy Drake?” The man asked, and Tim dropped his camera. How did the man know? He was wearing a baseball cap and his parents didn’t allow the photographers to take pictures of him. And he was very good at being sneaky too.

                “Ah-um, y-yes,” Tim stuttered. “How do you know that?”

                “I thought I recognize you,” the man said. He reached around Tim and picked up Tim’s camera. “I am Alfred Pennyworth. Do you remember me? I met you when you came to the Wayne Manor last summer.”

                And Tim smiled. Now that he looked closely he did. He remembered him. 

                “Oh, I remember! You gave me cookies! They were delicious, thank you.”

                “So, I did,” Mr. Pennyworth said. He held out the camera to Tim. “Would you mind telling me what a young sir like yourself is doing all by himself in the Farmer’s Market?”

                Tim blushed as he retrieved his camera. “I just wanted to take some pictures.”

               "And they are fine pictures too, I bet," Mr. Pennyworth said. Tim nodded excitedly.

             "There's so many colors here," he said. He waved his arms to encompass the market.

              "Would you mind showing me?" Mr. Pennyworth asked. "Over tea? I know a nice shop around here."

               Tim's eyes went round. "Really? May I?"

                Mr. Pennyworth laughed. "Of course, and I will take you home afterward."

                Tim smiled and hugged Mr. Pennyworth. Then he dropped his arms. Momma said you do not hug people you didn't know very well.

                "I'm sorry," Tim apologized. "I didn't even ask if you wanted a hug."

                Mr. Pennyworth pulled Tim back into a hug before lifting him.

                "I love hugs, Mister Timothy. Thank you."

                


	105. Chapter 105

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Tim spend time together. Gen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Crim/based off her plot bunny.

     “What’s this?” Tim looked at the box Alfred gave him in surprise. It was a fairly large tin box in a navy blue.

                “It’s for you to take back to your place when you leave tonight,” Alfred answered, and he smiled as Tim popped the lid off.

                “Alfred!” And a smile slowly crossed Tim’s face because the box contained chocolate chips cookies. And it wasn’t just one batch but two batches of chocolate chips cookies.

                “There’s no way I can eat all of this.”

                “I’m sure you will manage,” Alfred replied. He rolled up his sleeves and started pulling ingredients from the shelf. “You don’t eat enough as it is.”

                “I eat,” Tim said, but it was in light protest only because it was Alfred. No one talked back to Alfred. He put down the box.

                “So, what are you making?” Tim motioned to the flour that Alfred was measuring out.

                “French bread, Master Tim.”

                Tim nodded his head and leaned in closer, fascinated as Alfred mixed the ingredients. Alfred nodded his head at the old radio on top of one of the shelves.

                “Some music, Master Tim?”

                “Sure, and can I knead the bread please?” Tim asked as he switched the radio on. Soft music sounded into the kitchen.

                “Your help will be much appreciated,” Alfred said with a smile. It wasn’t often that Tim was home at the manor.

                After Tim had washed his hands, he plunged into bread kneading with gusto. Alfred appraised his technique with a critical eye.

                “You have improved since the last time you tried,” Alfred said. Tim laughed as he folded and rolled the dough in his hands.

                “I was at Kon’s last week. Mrs. Kent drafted me.”

                “Is that so?” Alfred hummed. He opened the fridge and took out the meat he had seasoned the night before.

                Tim cocked his head and sniffed mockingly. “I’ll have you know I am an expert at apple pie now.”

                “Then I will leave the pie to you for next week’s dinner party,” Alfred said with a straight face.

                “Alfred!”

                And Tim was laughing as Dick walked in.

                “Tim! There you are!” He immediately wrapped his arms around Tim in a side tackle.

                “Dick! Get your arms off me,” Tim said. His hands were covered in flour and dough, and he couldn’t wriggle free.

                “Sorry,” Dick said, letting Tim go. “I didn’t know you were back.”

                Tim looked at him in confusion. “I was here since yesterday afternoon. In my room.”

                “What?” Dick frowned. Alfred looked at Dick knowingly.

                “He needed his sleep. Are you in need of something, Master Richard?”

                “Nope,” but Dick was picking up the tin of cookies that was on the counter. Alfred smacked Dick’s hand with a spatula.

                “There are some brownies in the green jar if you are a hungry, Master Richard.”

                Tim smiled at Alfred. “Thanks Alfred.”

                “You’re welcome, Master Tim.”

                Dick grumbled, but he got the green jar and took out a brownie.

                “So, what are you going to do tonight, Tim?” Dick asked as he bit into the chocolate-y treat. "We can catch a movie or...?"

                “I was thinking about a game of chess,” Tim said with a sly smile.

                Dick choked on his brownie.

                “Seriously? But--“

                “Not with you,” Tim said, his smile spreading into a wide grin. “With Alfred.”

                “I’ll be delighted to, Master Tim.”


	106. Highlight Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass and Steph highlight their nails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 696\. Cass doesn't like the smell of nail polish or nail polish remover. It just makes her kind of uncomfortable for some reason. If she gets talked into painting her nails, she'll have someone else paint them for her while she uses her free hand to hold her nose.
> 
> (Batfamily headcanon#696 and Cr1mson5thestranger)

Cassandra stared at the bottles of nail polish Stephanie was pulling out, and she wrinkled her nose when Stephanie opened one after shaking it to make sure it wasn't clumped up or dried out. Stephanie noticed the wrinkle.

 

"What's wrong?" She asked, putting the bottle down concerned. Cassandra shook her head.

 

"Smells," she said and pointed at the nail polish. "I don't like it."

 

"Oh," and Stephanie stared at the bottles puzzled.

 

"So, you don't want to do your nails then?"

 

Cassandra sighed and held a hand out to Stephanie. "No, do it. I will hold my nose."

 

And Cassandra did exactly that, placing her other hand over her nose, fingers ready to pinch her nostrils once the smell was in the air. Because even if she hated the smell, she didn't get to spend much time with Stephanie.

 

Stephanie laughed and pushed Cassandra's hand away.

 

"It's all right."

 

And Cassandra watched bewildered as Stephanie pushed the nail polish away and went to her desk. Stephanie cursed as she knocked a few things from her desk.

 

"Found it!" Stephanie shouted and turned back to face Cassandra with a grin. Then she waved a green highlighter in front of Cassandra's face. She uncapped it and waited.

 

"Does this smell bad to you?"

 

Cassandra inhaled and thought about it. "Not too bad."

 

"Good," and Stephanie was taking Cassandra's hand into hers. She immediately started highlighting a nail.

 

"I used to do this back in school," Stephanie confessed. "I was bored and I didn't have nail polish with me. It doesn't last long though, but it's okay for tonight."

 

"Thank you," and Cassandra smiled.


	107. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark AU where the boys are planning a hunt against Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tigris.

The tea was blood red. Blood red and dark sitting in the porcelain blue. It wasn’t a tea Alfred would have picked—he didn’t favor fruit flavored blends. This—this was Dick’s choice. It had to be for the cranberry and apple tones scent, and the irony that it was close enough color to blood spilled. That and the fact Dick had called them all to meeting in Bludhaven.

                Tim could feel a twitch in his lips, and he let it showed as a smile that was dark and grim. He took a delicate sip and watched as Damian did the same across from him. Jason didn’t even touch his tea, eschewing it for the raspberry shortbreads. He rarely had the opportunity to enjoy Alfred’s cooking. Jason was stationed the farthest away from them. Though, Dick must have gone all the way to the Manor for them. Tim’s eyes narrowed slightly. It had to be a bribe for something.

                Dick’s fingers were laced together over the table. He had already drained his tea and hadn’t bothered refilling it.

                “So,” Dick said, and it was a rather weak way to start. “How was the week for you guys?”

                Damian’s face had the briefest appearance of annoyance before it smoothed back out to unreadable. Tim could commiserate. Dick was too fond of dragging things out for family time. Though, this was the first time in twenty years since he had called everyone together.

                “It was pleasant,” Damian answered slowly. Tim could only guess there was a violent spill of blood in the last month. It took a certain art that Tim could never achieve.

                “That’s because you have it easy,” Jason snorted from his right. He dropped crumbs as he waved his shortbread at Damian. “Do you know how much shit is going on in the South end by the trailers?”

                “Is that a request for help?” Damian asked mildly.

                “Stay out of my territory, brat.” Jason bit into his shortbread hard. It snapped loudly and viciously. Tim decided to interrupt before Damian could respond to that.

                “Why are we here, Dick?” Tim asked, turning his attention to Dick. Dick was still watching them with his dark blue eyes. It made Tim wondered briefly if he had spiked their tea, but he had checked and found nothing.

                “Bruce is dead.”

                They all went still.

                “Bullshit,” Jason called, recovering the fastest. “There’s no way—he has to be pulling your leg.”

                “It’s the truth,” Dick said and his smile was sharp.

                “I still don’t believe it. After all these years?” Jason shook his head. “Maybe he got lost in another time stream like he does every hundred years or whatever.”

                “Jason,” Dick reprimanded sternly.

                “Don’t you Jason me.”

                “I have to agree with Todd,” Damian interjected. “If he is lost in the time stream again, Drake can retrieve him easily enough.”

               That was true enough, although it was a bit tiring after the last five times. But…Dick’s smile was way too sharp still. And it suddenly clicked in Tim’s head.

                “You’re planning to hunt, aren’t you?” Tim stared at Dick. “He’s setting us all up to hunt.”

                Dick’s smile went sharper still. “I always knew you were the smart one, Timmy.”

                “But we haven’t hunted in over three hundred years,” Damian stated, confused and perplexed.

                “He’s forcing us,” Dick said. “It’s not a choice. I am proposing we do something a little different this time around.”

                “What are you planning?” Jason looked at Dick warily. Dick’s suggestions tended to end with a little more blood than necessary because it wasn’t necessarily planned down to details like Tim or Damian.

                “We team up this time,” Dick said seriously. “The four of us against one.”

                Tim thought about it and nodded. “That could work. It’ll be an excellent hunt.”

                “I suppose I’m in as well,” Damian said. “As long as Drake and I remain civil.”

                Jason sighed. “Fine. If only because I want to see the look on Bruce’s face at the end.”

                “Good,” Dick said. And they sipped the blood red tea as they planned for the hunt. There was something scary that only Robins could do after all.


	108. Boy Hostage. Really.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman teaches Dick a lesson about getting caught all the time. Warning: underage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Zina.

 For the past hour, Dick had been tied to a chair in the cave.  _And he couldn’t get free_. No matter how much Dick struggled or pulled, he couldn’t get out of it. Dick had even tried slipping his fingers out of the restraints—that usually worked—but even that was an unachievable feat.

                It only made sense considering it was  _the Batman_  who tied him the chair, but Dick groaned anyway. His breaths were shallow and sweat dripped down the side of his forehead in his exertion to free himself. Dick couldn’t even dislocate a joint for god’s sakes!

                Then heavy footsteps sounded across the floor. It echoed loudly in the wide cave, unhidden by the machine whirls. Batman stared down at him, expression unreadable with the cowl on.

                “You can’t get out of it, can you?” Bruce asked, and Dick slumped in the chair moodily.

                “No,” Dick responded softly, disappointment evident in his voice for failing Batman.

                “Do you understand now?”

                “Yes,” Dick sighed and wriggled in his seat. “Can you untie me now?”

                “No.” That was Batman’s voice, cold and stern. It didn’t keep Dick from speaking though.

                “Why not?” Dick pouted. “You know, I can’t get—“

                Dick stopped suddenly. Bruce had circled behind him, and Bruce dropped his heavy gauntlet covered hands onto his small shoulders.

                “Because you still don’t get it.”

                Dick frowned. “I get it. If you get caught by the bad people, you might not be able to escape.”

                Batman laughed. It was dark and low and sent a shiver down Dick’s spine.

                “You’re still taking this too lightly.” Bruce’s voice was hot and dangerous in his ear. It made Dick’s skin prickled into goosebumps.

                “I-I’m not,” Dick protested. And that was Bruce’s hand was creeping onto his bare thigh. It was large and Dick felt the warmth of Bruce’s palm even through the material.

                “Robin,” Batman reprimanded. “You have the reputation of being the boy hostage. That’s unacceptable.”

                Dick flinched. Both in answer to the statement and because Bruce’s other hand was trailing across his cheek to tilt his head up. Dick looked up into the white out lenses of Bruce’s cowl.

                “There are other bad things that can happen beside our identities being discovered.”

                “Yeah?”

                And Bruce was brushing a thumb over the bottom of his dry chapped lips.

                “Bruce…”

                Bruce pushed a finger into his mouth, making Dick choke slightly on it. With his other hand, Bruce cupped him hard, heat sinking thoroughly through the thin scaly panties and jock cup.

                “Brmmpfh,” Dick choked out around the fingers in his mouth. But he couldn’t get rid of Bruce’s fingers, and he was still tied tightly to the chair.

                “ _Very bad things_  can happen,” Bruce murmured and swept a kiss along the nape of Dick’s neck. His mouth was wet and hard, biting into the skin, working a dark colored mark into the flesh.

                “You need to learn exactly what the consequences are if you are caught,” Bruce continued. The rough texture of Bruce’s gauntlet scrapped the sensitive inner flesh of Dick’s thigh.

                “You can try to get out of this. If you can, you’re free. If not…,” Bruce nipped the outer shell of Dick’s ear lightly. “Well…you are the boy hostage.”


	109. Rooftop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Bruce/Dick sort of. In which Dick is a random civilian who sits on rooftop, staring at stars, and watches random rooftops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For fourofthem.

Dick stretched slightly before sitting down and leaning back on the blue fold out chair he had on the roof. It was surprisingly comfortable, and he smiled to himself as he adjusted his legs. Nights like these were rare -- when Gotham's smog was quiet down enough that you could almost make out the stars. It reminded him of open wide skies he saw when traveling with Haley's in less populated areas.

But Dick was smiling for a reason more than that. From his small little roof -- well, not his but that of the building his apartment belonged to -- he could easily make out the rooftop of Gotham's police headquarters. It was too easy to see the infamous light which called the caped crusader for help. It was too easy to see Commissioner Gordon meet with the man and then be baffled by Batman's sudden disappearance. Dick always laughed when that happened. Maybe, the Bat had a sense of humor.

Tonight, though, the Batsignal wasn't lit. It was, as Dick noticed, a rare night. And it was an exceedingly rare night because Dick was paid a visit by the Bat himself.

"You should be asleep." The voice was almost soft, and Dick managed not to roll and fall off his chair.

"Errr, Hi." Dick smiled widely as Batman slowly came into view. He swung his legs over to the side and shifted slightly. Then, he patted the now empty spot next to him.

"Want to sit?"

"No." The answer was clipped, but it didn't deterred Dick any.

"Are you sure?"

Batman fixed him with a glare that suggested he was more than fine and if Dick asked again, he would be in trouble.

"Okay, suit yourself."

Silence took over, but Dick didn't mind. Because he was patient...well, patient enough for this. He could feel Batman analyzing him slowly, studying his figure.

"Why?" Batman asked suddenly.

"What?" Dick blinked, tilting his head up. Batman started with a motion, but aborted the gesture quickly.

"You could be killed. Rooftops are dangerous."

Dick laughed loudly. "Are you concerned for my safety?"

Batman's lips went tight and straight at that.

"Sit down," and Dick patted his chair again. "Even good guys like you need to rest once in a while."

Batman considered it briefly before nodding his head once. He sat down gingerly. As if he wasn't sure what was the protocol.

"It's a quiet night," he said softly. Dick smiled broadly. "You can almost see the stars."

"Yeah," and Dick was only partially amazed by the tiny smile on Batman's face. It was his city after all.

"You know, you can join me anytime, right?"

"What makes you think I don't?"

At this, Dick had to stare.

"I have to disappear to somewhere after leaving Gordon," Batman explained.

"Ah, well...join me in person for real next time."

They sat there for a good thirty minutes together before Batman was called away for something. It was a rare wonderful night.


	110. Dick takes Damian to the circus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 526\. Dick took Damian to visit Haly’s Circus once when it came back to Gotham. Everything was going fine and Damian, surprisingly, seemed to be having a good fine. Then the ring leader announced a new act; a group of daring acrobats. Dick went rigid and couldn’t even watch the act. Damian noticed. He grabbed Dick's hand and went out of the tent. He told Dick when they were out that he was “quite tired of these frivolous antics and wanted to go home.” Dick didn’t say anything but smiled at his little brother. He told him that they couldn’t go home until they saw someone important. Damian really enjoyed meeting the elephant Zitka. It was the most the two brothers had bonded in a long time.  
> \-----------Batfamily headcanon Tumblr

Damian glanced at Dick. He had insisted on taking them to the circus. 

"It'll be fun," Dick had said. Damian reluctantly agreed. While he wasn't fond of such plebeian activities -- really, was seeing a lion that impressive? -- this wasn't just a mere random circus. This was the circus that Dick grew up in. And consider Damian's curiosity peaked.

But he wasn't quite sure about now. They were sitting in the middle rows, watching the shows. And the next routine coming up was the acrobats. A new act. 

And Dick went all rigid and stiff. Damian frowned. He eyed the two people climbing up the ladder to the tightropes, and he gritted his teeth.

Damian slipped his hand into Dick's and tugged gently. Dick looked down at him with a questioning look.

"I'm tired of these frivolous antics. It isn't fun as you suggested. I would like to go home now."

Dick laughed and smiled. He stood up and motioned for Damian to follow him. Outside the tent, he pointed left.

"Before we go, you have to meet someone very important here at Haley's."

Damian found he liked Zita very much.


	111. Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley hates drinking coffee. HarleyIvy, mentions Harley Joker

 Harley prefers sweet things. Like cakes and pies and her precious Pudding -- he was such a darling. She could name them. The pastries and the horrible weight gain it'll probably give her if she wasn't as active as she was, helping Mister J and all.

            Giant round chocolate chip cookies, especially those with colorful M&Ms in them were a favorite. Sundaes, piled high and tall, near toppling with the whipping cream and drowning in chocolate, caramel and  red, red strawberry syrup. Chocolate, rich and creamy and so tasty, she'll pop one or ten in mouth every time she got out of the shower if she had them. Taffy candy, pulled long and stretched and it was just really fun to play with. To see what shapes she could make out of it, though it usually just ended up as one long thin string. Not even a fat sausage. But yeah, Harley prefers sweet things. Loves them. Adores them. She would eat all the sweet things every day if she could.

            But there are rare days. Very rare it doesn't even count, shouldn't count at all days. She pours herself coffee on those days. Pours it and forgoes the usual sugar, cream and milk to make it merely a light brown tinted cup of overloading, overwhelming sweetness. It brings clarity of mind.

            Harley hate those days. Hate those days when Mister J is in a rotten mood, and hate that she needs to drink. It's not even booze, for Christ's sake. She despises that she needs something to remind her, to ground her. On maybe, why she wanted to stay and sleep on the couch again because Mister J kicked her out of bed. On maybe, why she was -- it's not worth thinking about, but she drinks the bitter coffee all the same, grimacing and pulling her face at it. At least, it gets her Pudding to laugh sometimes.

            Interestingly enough, when she stays with Red, stays with Red and her slightly annoying green plants, it's not like that. There is no strong coffee -- it really doesn't exist, seriously -- days.

            There is skin, warm and just the faintest hint of green, against hers. Vines that curl around her wrists and arms, tangles with her ankles gently. Sometimes, they even stroke and it's so soft, so tender and soothing.

            Harley snuggles closer to Ivy on those days. Presses herself against Ivy as best she can -- if she had vines or whatever she'll do the same. And when she kisses Ivy, kisses her deep, it's good. Ivy doesn't taste like pollen at all. Ivy doesn't taste anything but sweet. Sweet and mild and not fake or saccharine. It makes Harley brave enough to bite her tongue -- Ivy hates that, it usually results in a hard poke on her side. Harley's just glad Ivy doesn't have any Flying Venus or mouth opening, jaw snapping plants with her at the moment. She's pretty sure she'll just give the plant indigestion.

            Those are good mornings. Those are good mornings and Harley always got her daily dose of sweets with Ivy. There was nothing like those kisses -- not as good as Mister J. Because you know, no one was better than Mister J. He was the best in the world. In the universe. But Ivy came pretty close, so close and Harley just prefers her sweets.

            Ivy just happened to be one of them.


	112. Disapproval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet disapproves of Ra's al Ghul.

"You are Ra's al Ghul, yes?" Janet Drake crossed her legs neatly, primly at the ankles. "I would have thought you'll serve better tea."

She waved her hand in distaste at the cup of tea resting on a tray carried by one of Ra's' servant. There was a slight glimmer of green in the brew.

"Well, I do not wish to be rude," Ra's said. He waved at the servant to pour another cup of tea. Janet looked down at the newly poured cup. There was no hint of glimmer. Her lips curled faintly.

"No, you would not wish to be rude. Though truth to be told, the tea would have been fine if I enjoyed a bit of Lazarus now and then, but that's your forte, isn't it?"

Ra's shrugged carelessly, eyes focused on Janet. "Only on occasion. To what do I own your unexpected visit?"

Janet laughed. "You know very well why I'm here."

"Do I?" Ra's asked. He took a small sip of tea and smiled at Janet. Janet's lips curled even more ferociously. "You have your eye on my son. I do not like it."

"My apologies," Ra's said. He set down his cup of tea and stroked his beard contemplatively. "Had I know you were alive, I would have visited."

"Sincerity doesn't suit you," Janet remarked lightly. "Make your case on my boy, and I just might ignore that."

"Your boy intrigues me," Ra's said. "Such intelligence -- much like yourself."

Janet scoffed. "Don't try to flatter me. You are dilly dallying, and I am a busy woman."

"And I am a busy man," Ra's purred. "Surely we can come to an agreement in this short time."

"I think not. You're not very convincing," Janet said. She glanced at her watch and stood up, smoothing her skirt as she went.

"I have barely even begun to make my case," Ra's frowned. "How should I--"

"You don't," Janet said, striding for the door in long graceful steps. As she walked, there was a loud boom sounding from somewhere far away. From the direction of Ra's' pits. "I should mention that was your sweet little Lazarus pit. Each advance to my son will have one of your pits destroyed."

Janet's smile was positively feral. "I definitely don't like your eyes on my son."


	113. This child was hers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet Drake reflects on her pregnancy.

She touched the curve of her belly, touched it and smiled grimly. She had a child and it wasn't unexpected. Because Janet Drake didn't do things by chance.

This child was calculated. Calculated and planned right down to the date of conception. Because Janet Drake should have a child if only for society's norms but --

This child was hers. Hers more than she thought and that unexpected. That there was something to being a mother, to having a child grow inside of you. That it wasn't just a silly expression or foolishly spoken sentiments. So, Janet smiled grimly. Smiled and would have this child crowned and loved. Crowned and loved and no one will dare lay a hand on him, on her child.

Him because Janet knew the child would be male even before she found out from the ultrasound. Her child was male and he had to be for the world Janet would give him. 

Her child would inherit all that Janet had to offer and give. And he had to be made of sturdier things.

She touched the curve of her belly and planned. Planned and strategized. She would teach him not to cry as she learnt it from her mother's lap. Because crying never did anyone good. She would teach him to hide and shift forms, blend and--

Janet felt the kick. A tiny kick and she smiled and smiled widely. Her child wasn't an accident and he was hers.

Timothy, she whispered. My sweet Timothy.


	114. Where is my son?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet Drake asks Bruce about her sons whereabouts.

"Evening Bruce," Janet greeted. She was sitting in his chair, legs crossed demurely at the ankles. Bruce Wayne blinked at her, stared with owlish eyes before it slipped into a daze worthy of an idiot.

"Janie," Bruce exclaimed. His expression was calm and neutral as if he was used to being greeted by the dead. "How has life been? Haven't seen you in so many years. You know I've--"

And he had to dodge the snow globe that normally sat on his desk because Janet threw it at him. It shattered on the wall behind him.

"I am not in the mood for your playboy antics," Janet said icily. She lifted a pen from the holder and uncapped it. It was a Waterman, the tip nice and sharp. A perfect point that was just right. She wouldn't hesitate in using it.

Bruce coughed and he straightened his shoulders. When he spoke it was with Batman's voice.

"How are you alive?"

"Does it matter?" Janet shrugged and dropped the pen. Then she uncrossed her ankles and leaned forward across the desk. 

"The more important question is where is my son?"

"What?" Bruce asked, confused.

"My son," Janet drawled out, drawled out good and slow. "The one you took as your Robin."

Bruce was silent and it annoyed Janet. That the answer took so long in forthcoming.

"Please do not tell me you have misplaced my son," and her teeth was bared. Because Timothy was her child and hers alone.

"He is," Bruce finally said. "In Hong Kong on business."

And the pen that Janet had placed down earlier embedded itself on the wall. Right on top of the water stain from the snow globe.

"He isn't," Janet stated dryly. And her smile was fierce, hand ready with another pen from the holder.

"My son is missing and you haven't noticed."


	115. Chapter 115

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim is embarrassed to know his mother is seeing his former girlfriend.

"Mother!"

Tim was scandalized. He did not need to see that. Janet merely quirked an eyebrow. "Timothy, you are home early than I expected."

Stephanie looked at him, face in shell shock. "Tim! I, um--"

Tim shook his head, holding up his hands.

"No! I don't want to know. It's already enough that my mother is dating my ex-girlfriend."

He backed away slowly, hurrying to leave. Janet sniffed.

"His conduct is so poor. I expected him to have more tact."

"I know, right?" Stephanie said weakly, head still reeling at Tim walking in on them.


	116. Chapter 116

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian helps Jason out on a mission.

 “Todd,” and Jason curses as he smacks his head against the desk. He shuffles out from underneath the desk and glowers at Damian. “Brat. Don’t do that.”

                Damian merely looks at him with a ‘you are incompetent’ air. “You should have heard me coming or are you incapable of even that rudimentary skill?”

                Jason is tempted to punch the sneer off Damian’s face, but he resists and gets up with a slight grunt.

                “I was distracted,” Jason answers.

               “I can see that,” Damian acknowledges. He studies the desk Jason was underneath and a smirk lights up on his face. “Do you have any explosives?”

                “Why?”

                “Just hand them over, Todd.”

                And Jason pulls out a bomb, handing it over with a sigh. He watches as Damian attaches it to the section of wall above the desk and lights it. Jason barely has enough time to get the hell away from the ensuing blast. He shakes the plaster off his helmet.

                “Could have warned me, asshole.”

                “As if it wasn’t obvious,” Damian says. He looks entirely unaffected even with a few pieces of plaster stuck to his costume. He strides forward to the hole. Jason has to stare. At the people looking at him in shock and the bags of marijuana from the drug trade he was tracking. They were behind the wall.

                Damian is entirely smug. “You are welcome, Todd.”

                


	117. Piercing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 491\. Jason dares Damian to pierce his nose when Damian turns sixteen. Damian accepts, and when he comes home Bruce flips out and Alfred refuses to feed anyone until that "piece of metal is out of your nostril". So, everyone ends up eating waffles (courtesy of Stephanie) for two months.  
> \-------Batfamily headcanon from tumblr

"You should pierce your nose," Jason said casually as he popped open a beer in the kitchen. Damian had been eating breakfast when the man came sauntering in.

"What?" And Damian was confused because Jason said this out of the blue.

"You heard me," Jason grinned. "Pierce your nose."

"And why would I demean myself with," and Damian wrinkled his nose, "with a piece of metal attached to my skin?"

Jason's grin grew wider. He downed another gulp of his beer. Then gesturing with his free hand, Jason pointed upstairs where Bruce was currently in his study.

"Heard the spats you've been getting in with him. If you want to piss him off, act like the rebellious teenager you should be."

Damain sniffed. He got up and deposited his plate in the sink for Pennyworth to clean later. "I am not a rebellious immature idiot."

He encountered enough of them at school. Why would he do the same?

Jason laughed, taking another swig of beer.

"You're too afraid to do it, aren't you, baby bird?"

"I am not." Damian's eyes narrowed at the goad.

"Then get the piercing," Jason ordered. He patted the Damian on the head as he exited with his beer. Damian scowled at the pat.

\------

"Good heavens, what have you done to yourself?" Pennyworth exclaimed. He almost dropped the platter of sandwiches he was carrying. There was a silver ring in Damian's nose.

"Being rebellious," Damian answered. He smirked at Jason whose mouth was wide open at the shiny piercing. Damian wasn't afraid of a little pain. And Jason was correct. The piercing had made his father pretty upset.

"Remove it at once, Master Damian," Pennyworth said. "I am not feeding anyone till that ghastly thing is out."


	118. Teddy bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 524\. Damian used to sleep with a teddy bear, one Colin won him after a visit to the fair. But he stopped sleeping with it after Jason saw him with it and made fun of him. Damian threw the bear away that night. But when Jason spotted it in the garbage he snuck it out and put it back Damian’s bed. He knew Damian would regret it later. Jason knew all about regrets.  
> \--------Batfamily headcanon from tumblr

"Leave this instant, Todd. I didn't give you permission to enter my room." Damian scowled as Jason sat on his bed. 

"How about no?" Jason asked as he leaned back to recline on Damian's bed more comfortably. "Besides you break into my--"

"You make it too easy to enter your place," Damian cut Jason off. "And remove yourself from my bed. You're dirtying it."

And Damian wrinkled his nose as Jason settled into the bed further, drawing his booted feet up. Jason snorted, and then he frowned. Because there was something lumpy.

"Todd -- get off my bed!"

"After a nap," Jason responded with a smirk. He reached underneath him and pulled out the lumpy object. It was a teddy bear, brown and fluffy and cute. 

"Oh my god, is this a teddy bear?" Jason teased. Damian flushed pink.

"Wilkes gave it to me. At a fair. I didn't have time to dispose of it."

Jason just laughed. "This is too rich."

He tossed the bear at Damian with another snicker. Damian caught it easily. Then he threw it into the trash can by the door.

"Leave Todd before I break your arm."

\---------

"Good heavens, Master Jason. What are you doing scrabbling among the garbage?" 

And Jason flinched. He had been digging through the trash. Alfred stood there with a load of trash.

"Hey Alfred," he said casually. "I was just looking for something."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. Jason shrugged as he continued combing through paper, food bits and random objects.

"Dare I ask what this item is?"

"It's nothing like that," Jason assured Alfred. He let out a happy shout. "Found it!"

And Jason pulled out a teddy bear that was dirty and sticky but completely fine otherwise.

"The brat's bear. He threw it in here."

"I see," Alfred said. 

Jason patted the bear and removed a banana peel from the head. "Don't want him to regret anything."

"I will help you clean up the bear," Alfred said.

"Thanks Alfred."

"I suggest a good bath first for you."


	119. Monopoly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 636\. When Damian has a bad day, he visits Jason and they play monopoly together.  
> \--------Batfamily headcanon from tumblr

   "What are you doing here, brat?" Jason tugged off his helmet and shook his hair. He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair instead. His hand came away slicked with sweat. Jason wiped his hand on his pants, but his pants was covered in dust. It only made his hand sticky and muddy.

 

 

              "Don't make it so easy to break in then," Damian scorned. He was sitting cross legged on Jason's living room floor. Jason snorted and dropped his helmet onto a side table with a clatter.

 

 

             "I'll pull out the bombs next time," he said and shrugged off his jacket. He threw it over the couch.

 

 

                "Tt--we all know that would be futile," Damian said. There was a rectangle box and a brown bag next to him. He pushed the bag in front of him, sliding it a little outward.

 

               "You reek. Shower and I may give you this," Damian sniffed. Jason blinked. He could smell...

 

               "Chili dogs?"

 

                Damian stiffened. "I was informed it was something you enjoy. I can't account for your tastes."

 

               Jason laughed. "What's with the bribe?"

 

             "It's not a bribe," Damian denied. Jason smirked as he walked towards the bathroom, but he let it slide. The kid brought him chili dogs after all.

 

               When he came back out, he found Damian neatly setting up the items from the rectangle box. It was monopoly.

 

              Jason fell onto the floor next to him with a delighted hum. Good shower and -- he ripped open the bag -- chili dogs. As he took a huge bite into it, Damian gestured toward the pieces solemnly.

 

           "You may pick first."

 

           "That's very gracious of you," Jason said with his mouth full and picked one randomly. It was the wheelbarrow. 

 

            "I will slaughter you," Damian said.  Jason swallowed and watched as Damian chose the top hat.

 

           "Right," Jason snorted. "Now who the hell pissed you off today?"

 

         "No one."

 

          "Kid. You're in my house. You gave me chili dogs. We're going to play fucking monopoly for who knows how long. You better start talking."

 

          Jason leveled Damian with a stern look. He might not be around the manor, but somehow he was still the older brother to Damian. 

 

           Damian sighed. "This entire day was horrible. When I woke up..."

 

           Jason smiled and took another bite of his chili dog as Damian rolled the dice and went on ranting.


	120. Creepy Clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick has a creepy clock. Jason deals. Wonderfully.

   "God damn, that’s creepy,” Jason commented when the clock on Dick’s wall finished playing a short melody and chimed four times.

                “What are you talking about, Jay?” Dick asked. He had a bowl of pretzel in one hand and potato chips in the other. Jason waved at the clock.

                “Your clock. It’s fucking creepy.”

                “It’s not,” Dick said frowning. He put the bowls down. “It’s awesome. It can play four different songs and—“

                “That’s just it,” Jason cut in. “I’m okay with the chimes, but the music—it’s like ghost music, you know. So eerie and wrong. Where did you even get it?”

                Dick shrugged. “I got it from the lady in the apartment next to mine. She said it used to belong to her grandmother, and she didn’t want it anymore.”

                Jason choked on the chip he had picked up and bit into. Dick patted his back.

                “Need water?”

                “No!” Jason said when he managed to clear his throat. “Are you fucking crazy?”

                Dick stared at him, perturbed. “What?”

                “Did you even ask why she didn’t want the clock anymore?” Jason demanded to know. Dick snagged a pretzel and bit into it thoughtfully. “Um…no, I don’t think I did.”

                Jason groaned. Then, “Dick—Batman’s at the window.”

                “Huh?” Dick turned to look.

                 _BANG!_

                “Jason!” Dick cried, head whipping back around. The clock was now cracked and broken, on the floor in pieces. “Did you just shoot my clock?”

                Jason slid the gun back into his pockets. “It’s called being cautious, Dickie-bird. Learn it sometimes.”


	121. ice cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Dick eat ice cream.

Jason stared. The amount of ice cream and wafers in that bowl was exceedingly huge. He knew that Dick ordered the largest one there was, but he still didn't expect it to be that huge.

"Dick, are you sure we can finish this?"

Dick was already happily digging in. "Why not?"

Jason scooped up some mint ice cream. It was tasty. And sweet. And he was probably going to die of sugar overload.

"I think my stomach's gonna die with this."

He scooped another bite and swallowed it. More than think. It was going to happen.

The spoon dangled from Jason's mouth as he watched Dick easily finished a fourth of the ice cream by himself. Then, Dick smirked at him.

"Alfred's made bigger. This is nothing. Surely you can finish this."

Jason glared at Dick. That was a challenge. He took his spoon out of his mouth and scooped a large heap of vanilla ice cream.

"You're on."


	122. Arch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JasonDick. Porny-ish drabble.

Dick's back was arched, arched back and he tried to arch even backer. Because even if Jason's hands were on his hip, even if Jason was sliding into him, Dick needed that kiss, the hot wetness of tongue and teeth on his neck. He slide an arm back, up Jason's chest and pressed it against Jason's head. Pushing him closer to his neck.

Jason bit down harder. Suckled harder. Licked harder. And Dick arched even more, trying to get as much as he could of that sweet mouth on his neck. Because it felt so good, maybe even better than Jason's cock slipping in and out of him.

He felt Jason smirked against his neck. "You like that, don't you?"

Dick groaned, and he was so glad he was flexible enough for this.

"Don't stop, Jay."

"No one's stopping," and one of Jason's hand left Dick's hip, going forward to grasp Dick's cock. And Dick burned at the touch, at the stroke even as Jason continued to lavish kisses all across his neck. And he burned even more at the thought of the marks that would be left when morning came. All across his neck.


	123. Chapter 123

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 523\. Jason loved the Harry Potter books because he identified with Harry so much. He felt like he was just like the boy who grew up in a bad environment but was meant for so much more. Lately, though, as the Red Hood, he feels much more like Draco; so much he could have done for the greater good but failed to do. He hopes that he can turn things around and be the person he admired in those books. His two best friends, the fierce and smart Tamaranian and the loyal, idiot archer, seem to be a big part in helping him on his way.  
> \------Batfamily headcanon

The smoke leaks from Jason's lips and it goes up into the night sky in a curly stream. And when he exhales deeply, the smoke comes out in puffs and he wishes it could obscure the sight before him. But it didn't.

Nightwing swings into his sight, and Jason flicks his cigarette onto the rooftop. He grinds it down with his boot as Nightwing looks on disapprovingly.

"You shouldn't smoke, Jay," Dick says.

Jason snorts, and he defiantly pulls out another one and lights it in front of Dick.

"And you shouldn't be here. Go home before daddy misses you."

But Jason doesn't put the stick in his mouth. Instead he watches the smoke trails as Dick frowns.

"You know he misses you," Dick says. Jason shrugs and points out to the view of Gotham from their roof with the cigarette.

"You know, I was Harry Potter then," Jason says, and Dick smiles.

"You still are, Jay."

Jason rolls his eyes, and he drops the cigarette in his hand before it burns his fingers. Then he picks up his helmet from the ledge. The red of it was almost blood like in the dark lighting.

"I think I'm more like Draco and even then, nope."

And Jason puts on the helmet. "I don't regret my choices, Dick."

Because he was the Red Hood. And it wasn't the Batman way, but it was as good as of way as any. He was doing good.


	124. Buckethead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dick wears a bucket. Jaydick.

"You look stupid," Jason snorted as Dick preened in front of him. 

"I look fabulous," Dick answered in reply. He turned this way and that, posing.

"You're wearing a bucket. Over your head. Stupid."

Because Dick had found a red shiny bucket somewhere and placed it over the top of his head. Jason didn't even know where the bucket had come from. He didn't even know he had it.

Dick's laugh was slightly muffled.

"I'm the Red Hood. You better watch out or I'll gun you down," Dick mocked lightly.

Jason rapped his knuckles on top of the bucket.

"You can't even see, Dickie."


	125. Insecurities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JayDick. HS AU

"You," and Jason was poking Dick hard in the chest, "do not get to freak out about this."

Because Jason -- not Dick -- was the one that was insecure in their relationship. Who wouldn't? Dick was the golden boy, all cheerful and sweet and loved by everyone. If there was a chance of anyone losing anyone, it would be Jason losing Dick to someone else, not Dick losing Jason.

"Why not?" And Dick was shoving against Jason. Pushing him back against the lockers on the opposite side of the wall.

"You don't think it worries me? You're Jason -- the hot bad kid everyone likes."

Jason growled. "But you are fucking Mr. Popular! You have half the school after your ass."

They stared into each other's eyes, heated and angry. But it was ruined by Dick's sudden bark of laughter.

Jason tensed. "What, you think this is funny?"

"What? No," Dick said, still chuckling slightly as he lifted a hand to grip Jason's arm.

"I just -- here we are worrying that someone will steal the other away, but you know what? We already have each other."

Jason blinked. Then he smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I guess so."


	126. A Smoking Mermaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JayDick. In which Jason is a mermaid, and true love's kiss doesn't work right.

"I didn't know mermaids could smoke," Dick commented. Jason was lying in a large bathtub that might have belong in Harry Potter. He had a wonderful tail, the fins unfurled and wide where they poke out of the water. Jason flicked his tail and water cascaded over the sides and high enough to come crashing down on Dick.

"H-hey!" Dick spluttered. He tried to wipe his face, but his t-shirt was drenched and made an unsuitable towel.

"Don't be stupid," Jason said and blew out a ring of smoke. The cig in his mouth had somehow safely evaded water damage. It was still happily lit.

" 'sides, this is only temporary." Jason flicked the cigarette and some of the ashes fell into the water. He was actually really annoyed despite his blase tone. A stupid magician had been wandering around, and Jason caught the end of a stray spell. It was a struggle to cart him over to the Manor and into the biggest tub they had. Though, Jason supposed they could have dumped him into a pool.

"I still don't think you should be smoking though." Dick eyed the floating ashes in the water. Jason rolled his eyes.

"Do I look like I'm hacking over here?" Because his lungs were just damn fine. And he was going to do something not so nice to that idiot magic user once this was reversed.

"No," Dick admitted. He still had a frown on his lips as he leaned in closer. He studied Jason carefully for any signs of distress or trouble. "But I think it's safe if you don't smoke."

"Uh-huh," Jason drawled out and blew another ring of smoke. This time in Dick's direction. It made Dick cough.

"Jason!"

"Deserved it," Jason retorted.

Dick groaned, and then his eyes brightened. He quickly snatched the cig from Jason's fingers, dunking it into the water. At the content, the cig made a tiny hiss.

"There!"

Jason chucked the bar of soap at him.

\----

A few weeks later, and Jason was still a flipping mermaid. No pun intended. He couldn't believe he still had it, and despite everyone's efforts, the magician was still tricky and elusive.

"You have to be kidding me," and Jason flicked his tail in the water. The splash of water made the puddles on the tiles already bigger. Dick sat in a chair next to him. He had given up on staying dry, and he looked at Jason apologetically.

"Well, we got another lead so..." Dick trailed off at Jason's glare and quickly changed tact. "Maybe we can break it some other way?"

"What other way? I'm not getting myself sliced up in the name of science." Jason crossed his arms.

"Um..." 

Dick's cheeks slowly turned pink the longer Jason looked at him.

"Spit it out!" Jason ordered, and Dick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Zatanna...suggested...um...when two people -- you know like Sleeping Beauty and--"

"You mean kissing?" Jason cut in.

"Uh, yeah." 

There was an awkward silence.

"Can't knock it till I try it," Jason sighed. "Lean down, I can't reach you from here."

Dick obeyed and leaned down. Jason pressed his lips to Dick quickly, and -- nothing happened.

"Guess that's out," Jason said, settling back into the water.

"Maybe it has to be longer than that," Dick suggested. Jason snorted.

"You just want to say you boned a fish."

"Jason!"

"All right, jeez."

This time the kiss was slower, longer and when they pulled apart...

"Huh," Jason said. "I guess there's something to a true's love kiss."

Dick was also a mermaid now, flopping his tail against the wet tiles.


	127. JasonSteph Drabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Pink

**One.**

Stephanie tilted her head at the lopsided chocolate cake sitting on the countertop. The shift made the cake look almost completely straight. Then, she looked at Jason who was wiping his hands on a flour covered towel.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jason cut off before she could speak. The sound was enough to make the cake wobble slightly.

“You’re the one that said you can cook.” And the frosting on the cake slid down the side into a gooey mess onto the granite. Alfred probably wasn’t going to be very happy.

“I said cooking, not baking.” Jason threw his towel at her.

**Two.**

Jason stared down at the blondie that was currently the bane of his existence. He had some paperwork to turn in, but he forgot them. And there was no way Jason was going to go back home just to retrieve them.

“Look,” he said for the tenth time. “Can’t you just let me go this once? Please. I really need—“

“No excuses,” the blondie cut him off. Her eyes were steel blue and unyielding. “Not even for you.”

Jason wanted to growl in frustration. He didn’t have time—it’d take at least three hours—Jason changed his stance.

“Miss—“ he glanced at the placard—“Brown, I’m really sorry about this.”

Stephanie Brown gave him a skeptical look as Jason took her hand casually.

“I know,” Jason hurried on, “you didn’t expect to spend the last hour talking to me—I didn’t even expect it.”

Jason leaned down closer. “Perhaps we could come to an agreement?”

He drew a circle with his thumb on the back of her hand and smiled as brightly as he could, channeling his inner-Dick.

“Well,” Stephanie said and Jason thought she was wavering.

“No. No exceptions.” Stephanie shook his hand off. “If you touch me again, I’m calling security.”

**Three.**

Jason groaned when he saw his plate. It was a delicious pile of waffles, all piping hot and golden with berries. It would have been nice but—

“Again?”

“Again,” Stephanie agreed and waved her fork at him. This was the twentieth time they had waffles this month.

Jason stabbed his waffles viciously. “You need a better coping method, blondie.”

“Why? Worried about your waistline?”

**Four.**

“Are you sure you want to wear that?” Jason asked when Stephanie came out. She wore a slinky eggplant dress that was just a bit too alluring. Stephanie smiled wickedly.

“It gives me an excuse to kick people in the nuts.”

“Ouch,” Jason said as Stephanie started applying her make up. Jason stepped behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Even me, darling?” He whispered into her ear seductively.

Stephanie stepped on his foot hard. It was a four inch heel.

**Five.**

 Jason of the Red Hood order stood in the great hall of the Cavern, unpleased and angry.

“This is ridiculous,” he said and jerked a thumb at Timothy. “He is too delicate. I’m not taking him.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.  “Timothy is—“

“I don’t want him,” Jason interrupted. He scanned the people assembled quickly.

“Give me her.”

Bruce looked at the person he pointed to.

“You want Stephanie?”

“She has a stronger magic than my replacement,” Jason stated.


	128. Shameless Koncest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tinyredbird

"Um...," Kon said. And his other self, the future one just eyed him and shook his head.

"Look man, you don't have to do this but...," Future Kon trailed off. And Kon could probably guess that it was true. Will be true. Because Future Kon was sporting a light flush now, a sort of oh yeah, good memories smile on his lips. 

Next to him, Superboy -- the past one, the Young Justice Kon, was floating in the air impatiently.

"Look. Why not? Just call it masturbation if you're so worried!" Young Justice Kon said, waving a hand flippantly. His sunglasses slid down a little on his nose as he eyed Kon.

Kon sighed and put his head in his hands. Because it was really, really tempting. He didn't know how his future self and his past self ended up here, but the idea was really too good to pass. But did he really want to do this? And there was something sliding up his leg--

"Dude, are you using your TTK on me?" Kon asked. Young Justice Kon just grinned.

"If you got it, use it."

"He's right, you know," Future Kon agreed. "Though that's not always the case."

Young Justice Kon frowned. "Am I really that boring in the future?"

"I'm not boring," Future Kon said. "And that's not what we're talking about right now."

"Yeah," Kon snorted. "It's the question of whether I should get off with myself."

Young Justice Kon just smirked. "Well, we are pretty hot."

Kon ignored him and turned to Future Kon. "You clearly remember something -- why don't I remember this if this happened before?"

Future Kon shrugged. "I don't know. Ask Tim. He had a theory for it or something..."

And the TTK slid further up Kon's leg to thigh.

"Will you quit that?" Kon asked. It was more than distracting. Young Justice Kon sighed and withdrew his TTK.

"Boring," he complained. "If it happened, it happened."

"I actually have to agree with my way past self here," Future Kon said. He floated over and settled on the bed next to Kon.

"Besides, I've got plenty of experiences~"

There was no mistaking the lascivious leer that was crossing Future Kon's face.

"Well...," Kon hesitated but his mouth was muffled by Young Justice Kon. It was sloppy, messy and wet and oh. So that's what his TTK feels like when it was being used...

And Future Kon was closing in on the back, hands pulling at Kon's shirt.

"Really," he purred into Kon's ear. "It's more fun since we all know exactly what we like."


	129. Titans Academy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off Tronkon's idea. Set in the way future where Kon is a history teacher to the Titans -- now a school, where no humans are accepted.

_Kon frowned, glancing down at the application. "Why is this student's application denied?"_

_It looked fairly respectable. Could take a bit of work, but Kon was certain the boy could be a Titan._

_"He's human," the secretary responded._

_"So?" Kon wondered._

_"Our academy doesn't accept humans as students."_

\-------------

Kon slammed a fist into the desk. It didn't crack, but he made a dent into it. And Kon slammed a fist into the desk again and again.

Because this didn't make any fucking sense!

He knew that through time, history and many things could be lost. But that still didn't prepare Kon for this. Because Kon never thought that such a thing could happen.

He punched the desk one more time for good measure. The desk was left a hunk of metal on four legs like a basin.

The teachers in the room stared at him, but they were all a bit wary to face him. He was the oldest and knew things they didn't.

"Why?" Kon asked them. But they were all quiet and shrugging their shoulders, not daring to look him in the eye.

Kon sighed and leaned against the table. He hadn't been so angry in so long. Hadn't been so angry that he just needed to hit something. Kon cracked his neck. The sound was almost deafening in the quiet.

"All right," Kon said. "Someone say something now. Tell me why is it that this school? This particular school that I'm supposed to be teaching at only has metas or aliens for students?"

A teacher with balding hair -- Mr. Castor -- looked at him nervously. He was the one that introduced Kon to the school and he was pushed forward by someone.

"Well...um...," Mr. Castor said. "People without...erm...special abilities aren't capable of being a Titan. It's the same for all the schools. This rule. They are not capable of--"

"What do you mean not capable?" Kon interrupted. "Who the hell decided that?"

Mr. Castor blinked, confused. "Well...it has always been so?"

Kon didn't think he was over punching something just yet.

"Always been so?" Kon hedged.

"According to the history books. It's tradition if not a rule," Mr. Castor said hastily. That made Kon frowned, his TTK rattling around the desk. So somewhere in time, in the past when Kon wasn't paying attention to the academy, someone slipped that in.

"I see," Kon said evenly. All the teachers took a step back. Kon's TTK was barely being reigned in. "Throw it out."

Mr. Castor stared at him, but a lady dressed rather respectively was affronted. 

"What?" She said.

"Throw the history books out," Kon said. "If I'm teaching -- you won't need it."

"B-but it's tradition," the lady protested.

"I don't care. Tradition or not. Throw out the history book. I'll be teaching history my way."

Kon leveled a firm glare at them. He walked towards the door.

"If you need me, just call. I'll hear it, but otherwise don't bother me."

Seriously, Kon thought as he stalked out the door. Special abilities? He could still remember how Tim kicked his ass.


	130. Chapter 130

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha Wayne/Thomas Wayne - in the alternate universe where Martha is the Joker and Thomas is Batman.

 He dropped from the rooftop in a flutter of black, cape spread out. The motion didn’t chase away the shadows or the darkness of the street. Instead, the shadows seem to crowd and multiply because this was Crime Alley at its darkest hour. There was very little light and the only thing that seemed to shine was a stark and plain outline of a small figure on the street. A death had occurred here once.

                “Why, Batsy—you’re here early for the show.”

                Batman looked up and saw the Joker standing there. She was dressed impeccably as ever in her purple jacket and greens.

                “You are as well,” he pointed out as somewhere a clock chimed twelve.

                “I’m always there before a performance begins,” the Joker sniffed. But she moved closer to Batman, to the outline on the ground. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a flower.

                “That’s not one of your flowers, is it?” Batman asked harshly. He worried that it would spit out an acid and possibly destroyed something.

                The Joker laughed. “My flowers—I’m flattered you think I would.”

                She batted her eyelashes prettily before a deep smile distorted her face, and she tossed the flower into the center of the outline.

                Batman winced but nothing happened.

                “Martha,” he started. “You don’t have to do this. We can get you help.”

                The Joker stiffened and then relaxed.

                “Why Tommy, I didn’t know you care,” she laughed. “But I have bigger fishes to fry. Rain check, please.”

                And Batman watched as she left, allowed the Joker to leave. Because tonight was the night. She would not be doing anything dangerous.

                Then he sighed and took out his respective flower from his utility belt. He put it down right on top of the Joker’s flower in the center of the outline.

                “I miss you Bruce. Your mother does as well.”


	131. Damian Centric drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the future where he becomes Batman. Based off lowsodiumsalt's headcanon.

Damian looks over Gotham, looks over the city he has inherited and he wonders. Wonders if what he was doing was good enough. If he has met their expectations.

Then he grimaces at the rain falling down. It is four in the morning. But Damian still wonders.

He goes home to his cat, strokes the fur and a smile hits his face.

_“Hey Dami, do the Dr. Evil laugh while you stroke your cat.”_

_And Damian stared at Dick uncomprehendingly, a kitten in his lap. “Do what?”_

_“From Austin Powers.” Dick grinned._

_“I fail to see who this Austin Powers is and what that concerns with evilness.”_

_“All right, movie time!” Dick cheered._ _Because that was his answer to solving Damian’s lack of knowledge of cultural slang and information._

Outside, the rain begins to fall in heavy sheets, and Alfred the cat claws at him, mewling. So, Damian picks up Alfred and pads his way to the kitchen. And he still wonders.

_“Master Damian, your dinner will go cold,” Pennyworth said._

_“I’m not finished with my work. The temperature doesn’t bother me.” And Damian continued tapping away at the screen. He stopped when a hand falls onto him._

_“You will concentrate better with food in your stomach.” Dick looks down at him._

_“Fine. If it will stop your nattering.”_

He pours out the food for Alfred before rummaging into the fridge for sustenance for himself. He takes an apple and chews on it thoughtfully. Damian still wonders when the thunder outside sounds and shakes the manor.

_Bruce places a hand on Damian’s shoulders. It is the only acknowledgement Damian gets that he did well. But it fills his heart with an unidentified emotion. Then with a nod, Bruce shifts back into Batman._

Damian looks down because Alfred is purring, curling around his feet. He has already finished.

“Tt—you are completely needy. I was more than self sufficient at your age.”

But there’s a pull to his lips that’s almost a smile. And Alfred follows him out, down to the Batcave. Damian pauses at the steps going down. He stares at the screens, the dinosaur and the penny. He looks at the glass which holds the memorials for past Robins. There is a new addition for former Batmans.

And a feeling tugs at his heart. But Damian goes down, goes and sits in front of the computer. As he settles down to type with Alfred in his lap, he doesn’t wonder anymore.

He’s working and trying. Because if he works and tries, then maybe he is meeting their expectations.


	132. drabbles from my various verses that are scrapped

**1\. Art of Manliness Verse**

Colin sighed as Damian handed him yet another tie. He took it, eyeing the pattern on it. It was blue and looked perfectly fine to him. Colin held it up, but Damian shook his head.

"It's not flattering you at all," Damian said and passed Colin yet another tie. Colin sighed again.

"Do we really have to do this?"

"Yes," Damian answered, head bent over another ten selection of ties. Prom was less than a month away and he was determined to make sure Colin was well dressed.

"But," Colin protested as he fumbled with the 100th tie he probably tried on today, "we've been doing this for the last hour!"

And Damian paused. Colin did looked tired.

"Well...I suppose we can take a break. I do not like this shop all that much either," Damian sniffed.

**2\. Metamorphosis Verse**

"Tim," and he was interrupted in his sojourn for tea. Dick stood at the kitchen entrance, and his face was lined with worried. Tim sighed and settled himself more firmly on the stool.

"Hello Dick," Tim intoned quietly.

"You should be sleeping," Dick said, coming forward. He tilted Tim's head up and studied the dark circles beneath Tim's eyes with a frown.

"I couldn't sleep," Tim said and pushed Dick's hand away. And he gazed down at his tea, fingers cradling the porcelain. It was Jasmine and if Dick noticed, noticed why Tim drank Jasmine or drank tea, he didn't say a word.

It was hard to shake off Ra's and Tim was mildly startled by a light clatter. Dick looked at him encouragingly. He had placed a large slice of chocolate cake in front of him.

"Dick...," Tim said. "I'm not really--"

"Just take a bite or two," Dick said. "It won't hurt."

So Tim picked up the fork, sliced off a triangle corner and placed it in his mouth. It was too sweet. Too much and nothing like the desserts Ra's offered. The thought made him choke.

Dick rubbed his back. "Tim!"

"I'm okay," Tim coughed. Then he sat with his back straight, sipping down some tea. They sat there in silence for a while before Dick spoke suddenly, abruptly.

"Do you want to--?" Dick gestured at Tim's body. Because Tim was still female and--

"No."

**3\. Ferryman AU - JayTim**

It was quiet and dark in the woods by the stream, but Jason walked through them without any fear. He had died once already. Died and resurrected. And thus when he came to the stream by the woods, he was hardly afraid.

They had told stories of a man by the stream, dressed all in brown and with a hat to shade his face. They said he was the ferryman.

**4\. Ra's and Damian arguing over Tim**

"Choose, Detective," Ra's said simply but Tim could only gape because this was an entirely ludicrous situation.

"Choose?" Tim echoed.

"Close  your mouth, Drake," Damian snapped. "It's not that hard to comprehend."

And that irritated Tim. 

"If you want me to choose you, snapping at me isn't going to convince me."

Ra's smiled broadly.

"I'm not convinced by you either," Tim added.


	133. Competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brucie flirts with Wonder Woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For afewnovelideas

  If Diana could murder someone right now, so help her she would. By Hera’s good will, she really would. She did not quite know how she ended up here. At a Wayne Gala, no less. Or how on earth she managed to be in the company of Bruce Wayne— it was a trying situation, and Diana could only try and have patience.

                But it was becoming a Herculean task as the minutes passed. Brucie was becoming more infuriating, and he was grinning something fierce as he deposited his empty glass of wine on the tray of a passing waiter.

                “You have seen him, right?”

                “Superman?” Diana asked, and her face resembled a perfect Greek statute—all stone and cold. “In the news like most people.”

                Brucie nodded, and his smile was wide enough to reveal his white teeth.

                “Yes! Him!” And Bruce marked the size and figure of Superman with his hands in a large, sweeping gesture. “He’s very good looking.”

                “I suppose he is,” Diana replied neutrally.

                “Have you slept with him?” Bruce asked bluntly.

                “I—what?” Diana was taken back by the question. It was so out of the blue, and she had to stare at Bruce in disbelief.

                “Have you slept with him?” Bruce asked again.

                “That is…” Diana wasn’t quite sure how to answer it.

                Brucie laughed. It was annoying, and he leaned in closer to her.

                “You don’t have to tell me,” he whispered into her ear. One of his hands ghosted onto Diana’s left hip, fingers rubbing at the silky material of her dress. “I just want to know what I have to compete with.”

                Brucie found himself flat on the floor.


	134. Askbox Fics Set One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various askboxes I gave to people on tumblr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay about 4600 words of askboxfics. There are two askboxfics I sent out anonymously very recently-- so they're not included here. Some of them were not askboxfics, but sent out in messages. And only three of them were non-anon.
> 
> The pairings are all over the place but all featured Tim. Amazingly, I seem to have a lot of JayTim for askboxfics.
> 
> Pairings/characters: JayTim, TimKon, TimTam, Tim and Steph, TimDick, Tim and Cass, Ra'sTim, Alfred and Tim
> 
> They're in order of the time I sent them. So the first one is the very first one I wrote and so on...
> 
> Some of them are slightly rated M. And I think only one of them is more porn than anything else.
> 
> I reorganized the formatting to standard instead of in askbox format. I only did minor editing for some of them.

 

 

\---------

**TimKon/JayTim**

 

 “I’m not a mind reader,” Kon said, frustrated. Tim pursed his lips, equally frustrated. “I know you’re not.”

Kon shook his head. “You’re treating me like I am. I’ll—I’ll talk to you later.”

Tim watched him fly off, a frown on his face. Then, “trouble in paradise?”

"Fuck off." Tim scowled as Jason sidled up to him, arm dropping onto Tim's shoulders.

"Why, I didn't know you could swear, baby bird."

Tim elbowed Jason hard in the stomach, smirking at the older man's grunt of pain.

"Easy." Jason winced. "Just thought I'll help."

"Help how?" Tim snapped, irritated. Jason shrugged. "Dump him."

"Jason," Tim warned. Jason held up his hands protectively. "Just saying. You know the clone can't read subtle for shit."

Tim was silent as Jason cautiously took a step closer to him.

"I'm not going to dump him," Tim said. Jason leaned in towards Tim, voice low. "Only Bats read subtle."

He kissed Tim. Tim jerked, and Jason was safe with a laugh, backing away from the advancing fist.

"You want a relationship? You need a Bat."

"By your logic, I could date Dick or Bruce," Tim retorted.

 "Ouch," Jason said. "It's only fair to warn you Dick is such a golden boy. I don't think he'll get pass you being his brother. And Bruce? Really?"

He raised an eyebrow. Tim snorted. He shot off a line. "I'm still not dumping Kon."

"Don't blame me if he still doesn't get it."

A half year later, Tim was forced to agree. Only Bats could read subtle. Jason just laughed and pulled him to bed.

 

**Ra’sTim**

 

“You will learn the dance of my heritage,” Ra’s said, reaching to cup Tim’s face with his hand.

“I do not have the hips for that,” Tim replied, teasing as he moved out of Ra’s grasp.

“A mere illusion.” Ra’s warped a hand around Tim’s wrist, jerking him into an embrace. He lightly stroked Tim’s cheeks. “I do not doubt you will master it.”

Tim’s eyes were heated as he gazed at Ra’s, “You expect a private show.”

"Do you expect any less of me?"

 

**TimKon**

 

Tim's eyes were so intense, even fifty feet away from across the room, and Kon swore to himself because, holy shit, that just wasn't fair. For those blue eyes to look so fucking gorgeous and focused. Directed at him. And Kon had to take a step back because those eyes were staring and if this kept up, Kon was gonna pop a boner so hard that it might never come down. Which would suck because they were supposed to be all professional and…

Tim smirked, striding towards him. And it was too late. Kon panicked, not sure what to do. Tim was right next to him, so close, and his eyes, his eyes were deep, so blue. So intense, and Kon thought he might have whimpered at their proximity, but they were in public and that meant no fooling around. Then, Tim spoke, voice dropped and commanding.

“Kon, let’s ditch. Now.”

 

**Tim and Dick – AU – Gen**

 

Tim coughed, the sound holed up and echoed in the long beak mask he wore. He pressed a hand to his throat and tried not to think about the scratchiness and the itching that was starting to form. His patient, a sweet little girl, looked up at him, frightened. Tim hurriedly put a hand on her shoulder.

"Forgive me for scaring you. I merely swallowed a word down the wrong way."

 The girl relaxed, and Tim turned to the mother. He gestured to her and he led her out of the room.

 "Your little one shall be fine," Tim told her. He handed her a sheet of paper and money. "Mix these ingredients together and steep for three hours over a low fire. Have her drink it once a day for a week. It should improve her condition."

The mother thanked him. "Bless you, but I heard you cough and I--"

"Do not worry," Tim cut her off. "I am fine."

And Tim smiled even if the lady couldn't see it underneath his mask. He waved and smoothly left her abode, smothering a second cough forming.

 "You did not catch what she has, did you?" A voice sharply reprimanded Tim.

"Do not try and suppress the cough."

"Brother Nightwing," Tim acknowledged as the man stepped forward. "I assure you I am fine. As I told the child, I merely swallowed a word the wrong way."

 Brother Nightwing studied Tim intently, and for a brief moment, Tim was afraid that the man knew. That Timothy was not supposed to be out here, serving the plague ridden citizens of Gotham. That Timothy was the son of Drake.

Brother Nightwing sighed and clasped Tim into a hearty embrace. “We would not want to lose you as well, little bird.”

Tim shrugged the elder man’s arms off. “You would not as I am the only one adequately learned.”

He breathed a little easier. He was not found out. Tim imagined there would be much to be paid for if Brother Nightwing knew the truth. Because Brother Nightwing was Richard Grayson, the first of the House of Wayne. And Lord Wayne had expressively forbidden Timothy's assistance.

Tim shivered, drawing his cloak closer to his form. “I must head home. Farewell.”

 Brother Nightwing nodded, pulled him into a second embrace. “Farewell. Do take care and God bless.”

Tim smiled and hurried off. As he went Tim coughed again, but he ignored it. There were more pressing matters. He had to get home before his father discovered his absence.

 

 

**JayTim**

 

 “You’re not beautiful. You know that, right? Hm? Baby bird?”

And Tim could feel the sharp poke of gun with each questioning statement. The gun slid down, forcefully popping open the buttons on Tim’s shirt, and Tim could smell the faint ash of lingering cigarettes clinging to Jason’s sleeves.

 “Go to hell.” He pushed against Jason violently, sending the man backward. Jason laughed, not bothering to get up where he crashed. “I’ll take you with me.”

Tim didn’t answer but walked away, teeth gritted and fists clenched. He could hear the echoes of Jason’s words ringing as he left.

“Don’t forget that Replacement. I’m the only one who’ll take you.”

And Tim hated that he was probably right.

**JayTim**

 

He doesn’t know why he lets Jason does this, but he does. Out here. Where anyone can see. In the alleyway, dark and cold, and the putrid smell of trash in the air. But Tim groans and let it happens. Rakes his nails up Jason’s back, shirt annoying, confining and in the way. And he whimpers and cries as fingers slide in deep, twisting, thrusting, and it isn’t enough. He shoves down and Jason laughs as he whines. Pleads. Begs. All in this disgusting alleyway.

He lets Jason fucks. Fucks him hard with his fingers. Because he’s a replacement. And Tim’s okay with that. He can pretend. He can pretend for Jason, and he can pretend for himself. Even if he’s dirty afterward. Because Tim can have this. For a little while, and he shudders and groans and near weeps just to be touched. When Jason enters him, and he continues to pretends.

 

**TimDick**

 

"Go away," and Tim winces. At the bluntness of his words. How they rush forward in the air without heed like a child who doesn't look both ways before crossing a street.

"Tim," and Dick's voice is surprised. In disbelief.

"Go away." Tim shuts the door, pushing at Dick's foot when it tries to catch the wood from closing. From shutting him out. Tim wins. He always does. Dick pounds at the door. Calling. And Tim slumps against the door, kneeling, tears and fingers on the barrier between them.

He feels each pound, vibrations shocking through fingertips, through blood, through heart. But Tim can’t do this. Not when he’s second. Always. Not when he can’t compare. Replaced. And he curses at his voice. At how rough it is. At how it hides so perfectly his feelings. So perfect that sometimes, Tim thinks it’s real. He really is that cold. Because Dick listens and leaves.

 

**[After Dick left, Tim cried harder and he jumped when two arms slipped around his waist, hugging him.**

**"D-Dick?!"**

**"You're silly, Tim. I don't need the door to get in, the window works fine. So don't tell me to go away. Don't you know, I love you?"]**

 

**Ra’sTim**

 

 “Why would you do that, Ra’s?” Tim demanded to know, hands clenched tight on the front of Ra’s’ shirt. Ra’s coughed but even through the blood dribbling through his lips, he was smiling. “My dear detective, what is poison to a man who has lived so many years?”

“Ra’s.” And Ra’s coughed again, more blood trickling out.

 “Timothy, do you think I would do such a thing so lightly?” Tim shook his head. “No, but—“

 “I will always choose you,” Ra’s said simply. Tim trembled and shook at the declaration. He knew it now. That Ra’s would. Bruce didn’t even—and Tim scooped up Ra’s in his arms determinedly.

“Where is your pit? I’ll take you.”

 

**JayTim**

 

 “Jason,” Tim said so sweetly it made him instantly alert. Not that he didn’t know why but it was better to be alert when it came to Tim.

 “Yes, Tim?” He responded as he cleaned his gun casually.

 “Is there a particular reason why there’s a dress on my bed?” And Jason had to smother a laugh. The dress was white, poofy and a disaster to behold. It was probably the most obnoxious dress in existence. Even the lace patterns screamed loud and bold. And of course, Jason found it Chinatown. Because that’s where everything was.

“Maybe,” he said. “Jason—I will set Dick on you.”

“Thought you needed a bit of oomph. It’s not every day you get married after all.” Tim glared at him.

“Keep talking and I’ll call off the wedding.”

Jason grinned. “That’s fine too, baby bird. I’m okay with living in sin.”

Tim slapped him.

 

**TimDick**

 

They were rocking. And the ship was rocking. Everything was rocking, up and down, up and down. It built the churning in Tim’s stomach. It scored the tension in his shoulder, the pressure on his knees. But he didn’t protest, following the rock, their rock to the movement of the ship, and they were rocking, rocking, rocking.

They were rocking like Dick’s inability to stay still, and Tim didn’t mind because the rocking was hitting all the right spots. Took the fingers in his mouth, the blue stripes swallowed and its owner’s cock slamming into him from behind. And he sucked, sucked hard and good, matching the rock because synchronization never felt so good.

 

**TimTam**

 

 “Tam,” Tim started but Tam cut him off. “No, let me say this.”

Tam had a fierce expression on her face, daring him to interrupt. “There are so many things I don’t understand. And I want to even if I don’t get all of them. But mostly, I just want to know you. You, whoever that is. Tim Wayne, Red Robin – doesn’t matter. I just want to know you.”

She placed a hand on his arm. “Okay?”

Tim sighed pulling away and dragging a free hand through his hair. “Tam, I—“

“I get it,” Tam said. “You can take down ninjas but you can’t talk to girls. Just try.”

“No, I just didn’t want you to get involved in the first place.” He made a face. Tam laughed. “Too late for that, don’t you think?” “Well, I’ll try, but I can’t promise it.”

“That’s all I need.”

 

**TimKon**

 

Kon slipped his hand into Tim’s, tangling their fingers together. He brought their linked hands closer to his face, pressing his lips to the back of Tim’s hand. Tim looked down at their hands, lashes lowered as a slight flush graced his cheeks.

“What are you doing?” He questioned with a laugh, pulling his hand away without any real effort put into the action. Kon tightened his grip on Tim’s hand, a grin creeping onto his face and he pressed his lips to the back of Tim’s hang again.

Ploof~

 “Kon!” Tim was surprised at the sudden raspberry blow to his hand. His skin tingled as Kon blew on his hand again.

Ploof~

And Tim tried to tug his hand away as Kon’s grin grew wider.

 “Seriously, Kon.” But Tim couldn’t hide the giggles in his throat. And there was another ploof before Kon answered, “you like it when I’m silly.”

 “Unfortunately,” Tim sighed dramatically. Then his eyes sparked up mischievously. He pulled their joined hands to his mouth.

“I can be silly too.” Ploof~ 

 

**TimKon**

 

"Dude, did you just sneeze?" Kon asked. Tim looked at him, stone faced. "No."

Kon shrugged and turned away.

"Achoo!"

 "You did sneeze!" Kon said, whipping around as Tim protested that he didn’t sneeze. Kon scoffed. "I'm getting the blankets. You totally sneezed."

Tim held onto Kon's arm, trying to keep him from leaving. "No, I don't need blankets. It's 87 degrees, I'm warm enough. You’re going to overheat me."

 "I’m not the one who lost a spleen,” Kon quipped.

Tim’s face turned white at that. “I’m sorry—“

Ah, shit. Kon didn’t mean to make Tim feel bad, but he was genuinely worried that Tim would get sick again.

 “It’s not your fault, Tim,” Kon sighed. “Come here.”

 And he pulled Tim into a bear hug. Tim hugged him back. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Then, Tim asked, “How about you be my blanket?”

 “Hm, I could do that,” Kon said. “As long as you don’t get sick.”

 

**Alfred and Tim – Gen and Ra’sTim hinted**

 “Master Timothy, you don’t look so well.”nTim tried not to jump. He didn’t even noticed Alfred coming into the room. He sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand as he closed his laptop with the other.

 “I’m just a little bit tired.”

“I believe a little bit scarcely covers it,” Alfred said. He set down a silver tray next to Tim’s laptop after moving away the stack of files that were there to one side. “And you haven’t even recovered from the loss of your spleen.”          

Tim winced. “Can we not talk about it?”

Alfred gave Tim a pointed look as he picked up the teapot.

“Chamomile.” And he poured a steaming cupful for Tim. Tim took the cup from Alfred gratefully and sipped from it slowly.

“Thanks, Alfred.” He gave Alfred a tired smile, resisting the urge to rub his eyes again. Okay, he was more tired than he thought.

 “You’re welcome.” Alfred said. He patted Tim on the shoulder, but he paused as he was leaving.

“And Master Timothy, I do not approve of your relationship with Ra’s.”

Tim cringed and choked on his tea.

**Tim and Steph – Gen and mentioned Tam**

 “Steph, what is this?” Tim asked. He was bewildered by the strange thing on his desk. It was in the shape of a toast. Stephanie glanced up from her magazine. She was on Tim’s bed, lounging and reading. She shrugged at the question. “You’re boring. You need something to liven up your desk.”

"So, you gave me a --?" Tim didn't know what it was actually.

"It's a USB," Stephanie said flippantly.

"A USB?" Tim stared. He fingered it and found he could uncap the top part of the "toast".

It was a USB. Stephanie snorted, half rolling her eyes.

“Get with the program, and I thought you were a nerd too.”

“I am not,” Tim denied. “Don’t lie. I can ask Tam for proof.”

“Wait? Tam?” Tim echoed in disbelief. “Your fiancée is very lovely.”

Tim groaned. “You’re never going to let me live that down.”

 “Nope,” Stephanie smirked. “Now hug the toast and be happy. I’m generous today.”

 

**JayTim**

 

 “I would wash your helmet if I were you,” Tim advised, not looking up from his screen. Jason paused, hand on the helmet.

“What?”

“Wash your helmet.” Tim rolled his eyes as Jason stared at his helmet. The red exterior looked completely fine. It was nice and shiny and there wasn’t even any dirt on it. Then his eyes narrowed in suspicious.

“Did you do something to it?”

“No,” Tim snorted. “Why would I even touch that thing?”

Jason scoffed. “That didn’t stop you from kissing it while I wore it."

Tim flushed. “Fine. Don’t listen to me.”

 Jason shook his head and he pulled on the helmet, only to find it was sticky with cream.

“Tim!” Tim smirked as he looked over his shoulder.

“I told you not to touch it. Dick came by, just so you know.”

**TimKon**

 

 “Kon!” Tim seethed. His papers were all over the place, all mixed up and it was just going to be a nightmare to sort them out.

“Ooops?”

“Yeah, oops,” Tim said. He frowned at the mess and methodically started picking them up one by one.

“I’m sorry I left the window open,” Kon apologized, kneeling down to help.

“You always forget,” Tim said curtly. He reached under his bed and grabbed the sheets that managed to slip there. When he got back up, Kon handed him the rest of the papers.

And Tim sighed. Because Kon had the most kicked look puppy look on his face. He placed the stack of papers down.

“It’s okay, Kon.”

That face was just too sad and adorable for Tim to handle. He pecked Kon on his cheek. “I”ll just make something a contraption.”

“A contraption?” Kon asked. Tim nodded.

“Something like a flap.”

“Okay,” and Kon paused at the implications. “Wait—are you creating me a dog flap?”

Tim laughed.

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

 

**Ra’sTim (non-anon)**

 

          “You seem to be having an off day,” Ra’s comments when Tim comes in, wet and dripping. Tim glares at him.

 “This is all your fault.” Ra’s raises an eyebrow.

“Mine?”

“Yes,” Tim says. And he’s trying not to shiver as he peels back his cowl and undo the safety locks on his belts.

“I do not recall doing anything to cause your current predicament.” Ra’s waves a hand at Tim’s still wet form. “But I cannot say this displeases me.”

 Tim pauses in the stripping of his top. “You—“

 “Yes?” And Ra’s leans forward expectantly. Tim growls in frustration.

 “If you’re going to break and enter my place, could you at least do something useful?” “Such as?”

 Tim throws the boot he just removed at Ra’s head.

“I don’t know, draw me a bath or something.”

“Oh,” Ra’s says. “I thought you meant something different.”

“Still not sleeping with you.”

 

**TimRa’s**

 

Tim bites down on the pillow, bites down hard because he has to be quiet. Has to be quiet when Ra’s was stroking him and teasing him, mouth across his skin. But the fabric still doesn’t muffle his moans completely, and he feels Ra’s smirk against his temple. Because Ra’s was wrapping a hand around his cock and Tim still had to be quiet. Because Ra’s had the audacity to sneak into his room at the manor. When Bruce and everyone just happened to be home.

And Tim groans because it feels so good and he couldn’t do—he gasps, the pillow slipping out of his mouth.

“Very good, Detective,” Ra’s purrs at the sound that comes out and is too loud in the room, too loud that Dick or someone might come investigate. But Tim knows nothing is going to stop him even if someone came in. Not when Ra’s was still stroking and teasing and touching.

 

**JayTim**

 

 

 “Is that my dinner?!” Jason looked down at the bowl of macaroni and cheese he was eating. Then he looked up at Tim.

 “Well, I guess it is,” he answered nonchalantly. “Jason!”

And Tim was scowling. “That was mine.”

“You shouldn’t have left it out then,” Jason pointed out, and he deliberately forked up a mouthful of the pasta into his mouth.

“I was only gone five minutes!” Tim argued.

“I don’t care,” Jason said. Tim lunged at him, but Jason danced out of reach bowl in hand.

“Too slow, Tim.” And Jason ate another bite. Tim glared at him. “What am I going to eat then?”

 Jason shrugged. “You have a bunch of healthy junk. Eat that.”

 It didn’t soothe the frown off Tim’s face.  “Jason. I will personally--”

 And Tim was cut off because Jason tossed the bowl at him. Tim caught it as Jason headed for the door.

 “I’m late, gotta go—by the way your cooking sucks. How can you mess up macaroni and cheese is beyond me.”

**Ra’sTim**

 

"I know you had a trying day, detective, but really" -- Ra's eyed Tim who was pacing back and forth -- "must you relieve your stress by destroying my bases?"

"It's not like you don't have the money," Tim answered, pausing half a step to glare at Ra's. Then he resumed his pacing across the floor. Ra's sighed and got up, chair scraping across the wood panels. He walked up to Tim, wrapping a hand around Tim’s wrist. Tim looked at him, startled before scowling.

"Get your hand off me."

 “I think not,” Ra’s purred and he pulled Tim along with him. Tim dug his heels into the floor, but the polish was slippery and Ra’s’ grip was strong enough to drag Tim along. 

“Ra’s,” Tim hissed.

“Calm down, detective. I am not going to do anything you wouldn’t do.”

With that Ra’s opened the door to the bedroom and toppled Tim onto the bed.

“There are other ways to relieve a trying day. Remember that next time you want to destroy one of my bases.”

 

**JayTim**

 “Fuck you! I have magic!” Jason yelled and woke with a start. His heart beat rapidly and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was just a dream. But just as heart calmed down, he noticed Tim next to him, frozen.

“Sorry—did I wake you?” Jason asked. Tim collapsed into a fit of giggles instead of answering Jason’s questions.

“I have magic?” Tim laughed. “Are you serious?”

 Jason glared at him. “It was a bad dream.”

 Tim laughed some more.

 “If you don’t quit laughing,” Jason threatened. “I’m going to smother you with a pillow.”    

  He reached for a fluffy pillow that was just the right size for Tim’s face. He held it in front of Tim’s face. Tim placed a hand over his mouth and composed himself slowly.

“Okay,” he said. “So, bad dreams?”

Jason glowered. Tim patted his lap.

 “Come here.” He still had an amused grin on his face, but Jason scooted closer.

“I don’t think a cuddle will make it better,” Jason grumbled.

 “Who said anything about cuddling?” Tim smirked.

 “I like the way you think.”

“Good,” Tim said. “Now show me some real magic.”

And Jason did just that. They do chase nightmares away.

 

**Ra’sTim**

 

 

Tim's eyebrow twitched and he couldn't stop it from twitching because there was a bell around his neck and Ra's was dangling a ball of yarn in front of him.

"I will--"

"Destroy all my bases? Yes, I know," Ra's cut smoothly. He didn't stop rolling the ball in front of Tim one bit.

Tim crossed his arms, fingers now twitching to catch onto that red dangly end. He huffed.

"I was thinking about destroying one of your pits this time actually."

"Hm," Ra's hummed and one hand came up to curl around Tim's neck, to poke at the bell.

The bell rang merrily and Tim slapped Ra's' hand away.

"You are no help at all," he said as Ra's held the yarn closer to his face.

“I am catering to your feline tendencies,” Ra’s said. Tim growled and swiped at the ball of yarn but Ra’s held it out of reach.

“Ra's.” And Tim swore he was going to kill the person who thought to lock him in a magical bell collar.  After he got that yarn.

 

**JayTim**

 

 “Here,” Tim said. He held up a disc between his thumb and first two fingers carefully. "I got your info."

Jason smirked from beneath his helmet.

" 'bout time," he drawled, reaching for the disc. "I thought you didn't want to help me anymore."

Tim pulled his hand back, keeping the disc away from Jason's hand. He snorted.

"It was very hard to get this." A tight smile graced his face. "Bruce almost caught me, you know."

And Jason noted there was a certain air to Tim's voice.

The disc glinted as if a hint for something and Jason didn't even have to blink. His helmet was off in a second and Tim was pushed back, flat on the ground in half of that. The disc clattered to the ground but their eyes were fixated on each other. Jason slid a hand up Tim's thigh slowly.

"I can compensate your efforts," Jason purred in a low voice.

 "Oh?" Tim asked, voice deliberately light. There was just the smallest bit of flush that Jason could see at the edge of Tim's cowl.

 “It requires a lot of compensation,” Tim continued.

“Believe me, I know,” Jason said huskily and kissed Tim thoroughly. He would pay in back in full and more.

 

**Tim and Cass (non-anon)**

            Moving to Hong Kong wasn’t unexpected. It wasn’t—Cassandra didn’t have the word for that. She had the feeling, both clear and vague at the same time. She could probably attribute it to a gesture. Like someone sweeping you off your feet with a swift kick, but more gentle? Because it wasn’t like she didn’t know. She could read Bruce’s actions clearly, and she knows that he loves her like a daughter. But…

            Cass looked around her tiny apartment, mouth in a frown. Leaving home was difficult. Being away from home was even more difficult, especially when you know you have family and—Cass sighed, raking a hand through her hair. Bruce was gone now, and she was in Hong Kong. Her throat tightened up, but she made herself move to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

            There would be patrol tonight and she could be the Black Bat. It was her own personal homage to Bruce. Dick had the title, and Cass sighed again. She didn’t have the right word to describe this emotion either.

            “You know, I still don’t get why you’re in Hong Kong,” a voice said behi—no, to her left. Cass looked up from her teapot. She rolled her shoulders into a shrug, watching Tim. He was tense and—she read hesitation in his walk towards her as he pulled down his cowl. But his eyes were happy and full of love.

            “He needed me here,” Cass said softly. Tim’s fingers twitched just barely, and she knew he was just as sad as she was. Tim pulled out a chair from the counter and sat down, gingerly. As if he wasn’t sure he belonged.

            “Anyway,” Tim said, glossing over Cassandra’s sentence, “how’s your Cantonese doing?”

            Cass made a face.

            “That bad?” Tim laughed lightly even as Cass threw a teacup at him. He caught it easily, and she noted his reflexes improved. There were rumors about the League of Assassins, but…

            “Not bad,” she said. “It’s…hard.”

            Tim set the teacup down and poured out the tea from the pot. It was done seeping. He pushed it over with her, affection curled around the handle. Then, he drummed his fingers against the countertop.

            “It’s harder than Mandarin,” Tim nodded. “I’ll send you some more videos—“

            “No,” Cass said sharply. It was too sharp, and there was recoil in Tim’s tapping fingers—a just barely there pause.

            “I want to talk. With the video.” She smiled at him. Tim smiled back, and it went through his entire body.

            “Oh, we can do that.”

\--------

            The weeks were slow. And Cricket—it made Cass want to snarl. Because she didn’t know that much about him.

            But that wasn’t a concern right now. She was bent over a Chinese grammar book, and it was even more confusing. Cass supposed it was because her grasp of English still wasn’t enough. She stuck out her tongue at the page and rolled onto her back.

            There was a beep, and Cass looked at the screen in delight. She rolled onto her stomach again, propping herself up with an arm under her chin.

            “Hey,” and Tim was sheepish. He wasn’t in costume, so he wasn’t on patrol yet.

            “Tim,” she said and held up her book to the camera.

            “Uh, what?”

            “Help,” Cass said simply, moving the book a back a little so Tim could see it more clearly.

            They spent a few hours going over the section Cass was having trouble with and practicing speaking Cantonese. Then Tim went off for patrol, with a request to meet up.

            Cass rather have the slow weeks. Having narrowly kept Tim from being rape wasn’t something Cass wanted to go through again. Slow weeks were good in comparison to Tim being hurt or—

            She never wanted to stab Tim again even if it wasn’t real.

\-------------

            Cass didn’t fly back to Gotham when she heard Bruce was back. She was still needed in Hong Kong, and Bruce—he talked to her on the screen. It wasn’t the best, but it was good enough until Cass had time to visit. Right now, she was concentrated on Tim.

            They were in a restaurant, surrounded by loud noises and bustling activities.

            “You should have told me,” Cass told him clearly over her cup of tea. Tim winced.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Not sorry,” and Cass poked him on the forehead. Tim rubbed it.

            “I’m sorry! I’ll tell you next time.”

            Cass stared at him. Tim flushed. “I mean, I’ll tell you when something happens. I don’t want this to happen again. Anyway—“

            His eyes darted around, scanning for the metal carts with all the delicious smelling foods.

            “What do you want?”

            At this Cass smiled broadly, and in quick succession, she had flagged down a waiter, spoke to the cart pushers and they had food on their table.

            Tim’s eyes were wide. It was funny.

            “I practiced.”

            “Yeah,” Tim said. “I can tell.”

            Cass picked up her chopsticks and placed a har gow—the tiny shrimp dumpling was steaming, the white skin delicate and translucent—onto Tim’s plate.

            "Eat," she ordered, and they enjoyed their meal happily.

 

**Lazarus and Tim and Ra’s – gen (non-anon)**

 

Tim groaned, hand reaching up to hold his head gingerly. There was a pounding ache in his head, and there was a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. It was almost like water, but there was a strangeness to it.

His eyes snapped open, and he was startled by the white blinding light.

“Oh,” Tim groaned again, eyes shuttering before he slowly opened them again.

“You finally awaken.”

Tim’s eyes were wide and a thick blush landed on his cheeks. A tall lady dressed in green silk eyed him thoughtfully. Her cheekbones were high and wide. Her lips were full, and strands of beads that look almost like bubbles were draped around her neck, wrists and waist.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful to really describe, and Tim averted his eyes. But the lady stepped forward and gripped Tim’s chin, nails sinking in only just enough to leave light pink marks.

“Look at me when I speak.” She forced Tim to tilt his head up, and her eyes were horrifyingly deep as if an abyss. A multi-faceted green, and Tim swallowed hard.

“I do not understand,” the lady frowned. “How are you more appealing?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Tim said, confused. The lady dug her nails deeper, and Tim bled from the small wells formed.

“Ra’s has been avoiding my attention lately,” the lady sniffed. “You are only a child.”

Tim didn’t know how to respond to that. “I…um…”

“Do not play innocent, child.”

“I don’t even know who you are!” Tim blurted out. He wondered if this was a relative of Ra’s. She looked mad enough to be related anyway.

The lady released him and drew herself up. Was she even taller now?

“I am Lazarus, and you have drank my waters.”

Tim’s stomach dropped as his head pounded a little harder. He remembered…being—wasn’t he dead?

“Ah, Timothy,” Ra’s voice cut through smoothly. Tim scowled, but he didn’t get a chance to yell at him.

“How could you drop him into my waters?” Lazarus hissed at Ra’s.

Ra’s smiled, “the more people to appreciate your beauty the better.”

“Then you should bring back the other one,” Lazarus retorted. “I do not like this child.


	135. Chapter 135

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim learns what he needs from Jack Drake. Hints Ra's/Tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble. This time, Tim, Janet Drake, Jack Drake and a hint of Tim/Ra's.
> 
> From this. Third row, middle panel. I just thought that was interesting, and I couldn't help but use it.

Tim learned his ruthlessness from Janet Drake. He learned how to rule, how to wield a tool and bring the world down to its knees. 

He learned to stand with his shoulders tall and back straight. 

He learned to smile and flirt and use every charm he possessed from Janet Drake's perch.

But it was Jack Drake who gave him the means to kill.

Because Jack Drake -- for all that he was -- was a father. And he taught Tim in all the ways he ever needed. 

_"The easiest thing to predict is human nature."_

It was true, and as Ra's kissed his way across the nape of Tim's neck -- Tim smiled, fingers curled in Ra's' hair.

_"You can always count on bad people making dumb decisions."_

Ra's would die tonight.


	136. Chapter 136

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce learns about Ra's attempted rape of Tim. Sort of. Based off Miss Pro's thing.

“Please, it’s nothing!” Tim said, flushing red and entirely embarrassed. Dick shot him a look for cutting him off, but Bruce was entirely concerned.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, and even though the cowl was down, his face was impressively stern.

“It’s nothing,” Tim repeated. It was while Bruce was gone, and it was honestly just a little matter.

“It’s not nothing,” Dick disagreed, and Tim could have slapped him in the face for that. “If it wasn’t for Cass, you really might have been—“

At this Dick went quiet, and Tim remembered the uncomfortable conversation they had. Because rape was a touchy subject, and he never knew that about Dick.

“Tim.” Bruce’s voice was calm, and Tim didn’t dare look at him.

“It’s really nothing,” Tim said quietly, voice small and tiny. “Ra’s wanted…um…hewantedaheir.”

Tim blurted out the last part as fast as he could. Everything was quiet saved for the whirs of the computers and the technology in the cave. Tim braved a quick look up. Bruce’s face was unreadable.

“Bruce,” and Tim ungracefully broke through the quiet. “I’m fine. I’m good.”

“You—Dick,” Bruce turned to Dick instead.

“It’s true,” Dick said. “Cass got there before he was.”

“See,” Tim said. “I’m fine. Can we drop it?”


	137. BruceJason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A weird dream prompt this. In which Jason is preggers for some reason. OTL

"You are pregnant." 

Bruce's lips were straight and fine, and Jason could only shrug carelessly, the roll of shoulders creasing his jacket audibly.

"So, what's it to you?"

They stared at each other in Jason's crappy hide out. Whoever looks away first loses. And Jason was surprised by Bruce's sudden proximity. He blinked and scowled, and Bruce's hand was on his face.

"Who?" Bruce demanded to know. There was tightness in his voice, and Jason pushed his hand away.

"Does it matter? I mean, I'm a guy! I shouldn't be able to get pregnant. Isn't that more important?"

But Bruce pulled him back, grip tight on Jason's shoulder. His jacket creased even more loudly, and Bruce's voice was hot against his ear.

"Who, Jason? Who?"

And he never thought--that's a lie. Jason knew Bruce was possessive and obsessive. 

"Fuck you!" Jason said, and this time he shoved Bruce hard into the kitchen counter. Because it wasn't right.

"You care about me now when I'm pregnant? Where were you before?"

"Jason, I...," and Bruce was soft this time, eyes wide. Jason rubbed his temples.

"No, forget it. Get out."


	138. Audition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TimDick - gen - based off mythoughtfulwindow's dream

No one quite knew where Tim disappeared too. He was good. He was a Bat after all, but that didn't mean Dick or anyone didn't have the training to find him. What was frustrating was how long it took. Tim was good enough to evade them for several years, and when Dick finally managed to find him, he was surprised.

Dick was crouched on a rooftop. It was late at night, and his binoculars were -- he was old fashioned sometimes -- honed in on a window looking into a dance studio. Tim was there, practicing steps, and Dick could faintly make out the sheen on his forehead. Of all the things he expected Tim to have done after quitting being a vigilante, it wasn't this.

But Tim was graceful in his movements. He danced pretty well, and he looked better. Healthier. It was a sight far different from Tim's figure before he left. Dick was appalled at how much weight Tim had gained in the aftermath. And he was appalled at how Tim felt force to fake his death. Silly little brother. Dick's fingers curled tightly around the binoculars. He'd keep watch for a while. Bruce could know later.

And Tim continued to dance unaware. 


	139. No Antidote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim does have an antidote for the sex pollen, but he isn't telling Jason that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For sablelighter

Tim blinked as a haze of lust settled over him. It was just as Tim remembered. The familiar sensation curled in his stomach, the pollen sticky on his face and the overwhelming desire. It was a low dose, but not low enough. It was one of Ivy’s more potent strains, and it made Tim’s knees weak. He gripped the table hard to keep himself from buckling down. Had to try not to rut himself against that edge, that hard table end.

And then the door cracked open.

“Tim?” Jason’s voice was low and concerned. “What are you doing here?”

“Jay,” Tim whispered, and there was a flush high on his cheek. Because he was only all too aware of the blood pumping in his veins and to nether regions. He could almost picture how he looked to Jason—eyes dilated, hot with want, hips jerking into the table end, and Tim let loose a low groan.

Jason hurried over to him, fingers checking Tim’s pulse, and he stopped suddenly.

“Ivy?” Jason asked, and that pollen was on his fingers, dusty and sticking.

“Yes,” Tim breathed out, and he easily pushed Jason to the floor, legs straddling.

“Tim,” Jason choked out, but Tim was kissing him, kissing him and taking his name from Jason’s lips in greedy licks and nips, tongue sliding. Tim burned with need, and his fingers were in Jason’s hair.

“Please,” Tim asked against his mouth.

Jason groaned, and he flipped them so Tim was beneath him.

“No,” Jason growled. “I thought Ivy was in Arkham.”

Tim laughed, and it was almost painful as he pushed his hips up into Jason’s.

“There’s no antidote if you want to know,” Tim said. He had discarded most of them saved for one or two, and that was hidden away so securely even Jason couldn’t find it.

“If you wanted sex, all you need to do was ask.”

“Hm,” Tim hummed. “But this is more fun.”

“I hope you know you’re scary, baby bird.”


	140. Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ra's and Tim in a Inception-ish thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For supernova2395

“Look, Detective, what do you see?”

Ra’s’ voice glided into Tim’s ear in one smooth stream, and Tim looked. Really looked at the landscape. It was Gotham, dark and tall. Skies grey and there was a wind sweeping through, hailing an odd sort of tune.

“It…isn’t real,” Tim said slowly. Because the details were fine. Too fine. Too exact saved for the camera in his hand.

“Is it?” Ra’s asked. He was amused by the entire situation.

“It isn’t.” Tim lifted the camera he had and snapped a picture. There was nothing on the screen.

“Ah, so it isn’t,” Ra’s said.

“Where is this?” Tim blinked again and stared. Gotham looked so real. Looked as if it had never fallen, never was anything but there existing.

“You know the answer,” Ra’s whispered into his ear. His fingertips ran across the top of Tim’s camera. Tim’s forehead furrowed, and his mouth fell open in shock.

“It can’t be.” He looked at Ra’s desperately.

“It is,” and Ra’s’ smile curled dangerously. “Limbo.”

Then, he threw a hand out, arm to encompass the whole of the world.

“Look at what we can create together, Detective. Just you and I—here.”

Tim shook his head. “No. Not you and I. Just you.”

Ra’s knocked him down before he could reach for anything. He pressed a foot down onto Tim’s chest. Tim coughed.

“You will not die here, Timothy. I will not let you. Not when you are mine forever now.”


	141. Traffic is bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet and Tam has a business face off?

 “Mrs. Drake? Your tea.” Tam handed the cup to the elder woman. Janet looked at the cup in disdain, but she took the cup.

                “I prefer coffee,” Janet said.

                “Excuse me?” Tam paused from drinking her own cup.

                “In the future,” Janet clarified. “I prefer to drink coffee.”

                Tam smiled blandly. “I will remember that, Mrs. Drake.”

                Janet didn’t look like she believed Tam, but she took a tiny sip of her tea before placing the cup down on the table.

                “Where is Bruce? He is twenty two minutes late.”

                “He is stuck in traffic,” Tam answered. Her eyes met with Janet, and it was cold steel clashing.

                “Is that so?” Janet hummed. “I thought traffic was quite clear at this time of day.”

                “I believe,” Tam said slowly, “there was an accident.”

                Janet’s mouth quirked slightly. “I hope it wasn’t his head.”

                “Perhaps,” Tam pushed the folder on the table forward, “we can start without him.”

                Janet pushed the folder back towards Tam.

                “I’ll wait.”

                “Traffic is really bad,” Tam said and the folder was again on Janet’s side of the table.

                “Forgive me, but you are?” Janet arched an eyebrow in question.

                “Tamara Fox. I believe these will be of interest to you.”

                Tam had flipped open the folder and pointed at the charts and graphs there. Janet brought the item closer to her, and there was a dangerous smile on her lips.

                “I believe so, Miss Fox. Now, tell me more.”

                Tam smiled back at her, and it was just as sharp. "As you wish, Mrs. Drake." 


	142. Losing Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim owns Steph twenty because of Jason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For snowzapped.

                “I’m not sure this is a good place,” Jason said. They were sitting on a couch in one of the rooms in the manor, and Tim was straddling him.

                “Why not?” Tim all but purred as he ran his hands across Jason’s chest. Jason gripped Tim’s hands tight, keeping them from moving further down.

                “Seriously?”

                Tim merely bent down and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I thought this was up your alley?”

                “We’re not in an alley,” Jason replied, but his breath hitched slightly. He could stop Tim’s hands, but he couldn’t stop the roll and rub of Tim’s hips.

                “I thought. This was. Your style,” and Jason had to groan at the pause between words—

                “Hey!”

                Jason had flipped them over, pressing Tim deeper into the couch.

                “Maybe,” and Jason was nipping down Tim’s neck, barely leaving marks.

                “I’m losing twenty,” Tim said.

                “What?”

                “Because you’re the Red Hood—you’re supposed to be sexy and dangerous and don’t give a damn where you sleep with people. And I want top by the way.”

                Tim once again straddled Jason but more firmly this time, keeping Jason down with what little weight he had.

                “You’ve been talking to Steph,” Jason said suspiciously.

                “Yes.” Tim rolled his eyes and started pushing Jason’s shirt up impatiently. “I own her twenty.”

                “I still don’t think this is a good place,” Jason said, but he leaned up slightly. The shirt dropped next to couch.

                There was a slight cough, and Alfred stood at the door, face blank.

                “I have to agree with Master Jason this time. Take it to your room, gentlemen.”


	143. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is asked to babysit Damian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FWD

"I don't believe this," Jason groaned. He was slumped in a chair in the cave. Dick was suited up, and Damian was sulking in the other chair.

"You'll be fine," Dick said cheerfully. There was a giant smile on his face, but it was quickly wiped away. Jason had hit Dick's square on the forehead with a paper football.

"Jason!"

"I'm not going to sit here and play babysitter."

Dick frowned. "Oh, come on."

"No," Jason said and shook his head. He crossed his arms.

"Please Grayson," Damian interjected. "If he does not wish to be here, then allow him to go. I do not need a caretaker."

"Damian," Dick sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I cannot leave you here alone. Alfred isn't even here either."

"I can take care of myself," Damian said. At this, Jason snorted.

"You can take care of yourself?" He asked. That was only true depending on the circumstances, and in this case, it wasn't.

"Better than you Todd," Damian sniffed. "Besides, I do not trust you to care for me properly. I bet you can't even cook."

"I can cook." Jason said. "I lived on the streets. I can take care of you better than you can take care of yourself."

They glared at each other in tense silence before Dick suddenly clapped his hands together.

"Okay!" Dick exclaimed. "Jason agrees. Thanks."

And like that Dick was gone. The sneaky bastard had gotten to the car during Jason and Damian's short argument.

Damian eyed Jason carefully. "I'm going to complain to father."

Jason promised to himself he'll lock the brat in his own room. He was going to be grounded during the week Jason was there.


	144. Generous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damian is a generous man. Rated M for bondage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For loverwren

  “I’m not bottoming for you,” Tim says, and Damian pulls against the restraints and the way he’s tied to the bed. He’s naked, face down and unarmed. And Tim has even placed a cock ring on him.

Every inch is bare for Tim’s eyes, and Damian pulls even harder to free himself. He has never been so vulnerable in his life.

                “Tim,” and Damian’s breath is gone with the touch of Tim’s hands on his back. When those hands travel down and strokes over his ass.

                Tim presses a kiss to the top of his tailbone, and Damian jerks at how hot that felt. Even so, Damian still isn’t convinced, and he manages to free a hand.

                “You are,” Damian argues, and Tim wraps a hand around his cock. Damian’s hand freezes mere centimeters away from untying his other hand.

                “Am not,” Tim whispers and nips his ear. “I won’t do it. Not all the time.”

                And Damian shudders at the feel of Tim’s erection against his ass, at the strokes. Tim is teasing, drawing it out.

                “You will,” Damian tries to say, but it’s a moan, and he drops his free hand onto the headboard. He clenches it tightly with his hand as Tim continues his ministrations. Tim laughs against him.

                “Not today. Now be a good boy, or I won’t let you come.”

                And Damian’s eyes shoot open, and he glares at Tim.

                “You are a thief.” Because that was Damian’s trick, and it worked exceedingly well when it came to Tim. Made Tim all flushed and red and needy till he was begging for Damian’s touch.

                Tim laughs harder, and he meets Damian’s glare. It is an evil smile.

                “Afraid, Damian? Don’t worry. I promise it doesn’t make you any less of a man.”

                And Tim kisses Damian hard, tongue seeking.

                “Be a good boy,” Tim says against his mouth. Damian decides it wouldn’t hurt to accept this. Because he was generous like that.


	145. Lamer Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim uses pick up lines on Bruce. Rated M slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Neko.

The cave was silent saved for the occasional high pitched vocalizations from the bats and the clickety-clacky of keys. It had been an exhausting night, and there was nothing more that Tim wanted to do but sleep.

                If it wasn’t for a certain niggling fact.

                Tim’s fingers hovered over the keys, paused in writing the report Bruce wanted. Furtively, he looked over at Bruce. Watched those muscles in the shoulders flex, twitch and shift just the slightest as Bruce typed up his own reports and work.

                And before Tim knew it, he was pushing Bruce back against the console. Pushing him back and kissing him desperately.

                Bruce’s hands came up, and they dwarfed the small of Tim’s shoulders.

                “Tim?”

                Tim licked his lips. “Yes, Bruce?”

                And his fingers were pulling at the suit, trying to peel it off and get right onto the warm expanse of flesh Tim knew was beneath it.

                “Why are you…”

                “I’m in the mood?” Tim quipped before Bruce could think he gotten into Ivy's garden. His hands traced the uneven rising of skin that marked the worse scars.

                “Tim.”

                Tim kissed his way up Bruce’s jawline to the ear, feeling the coarse stubble beneath his lips.

                “It’s the last day before the world ends. I want to spend it appropriately.”

                Bruce laughed, and with a shift, he had Tim against the tech beneath him.

                “Is that the best you can do?”

                Tim shrugged and spread his legs so Bruce could get even closer.

                “You have lamer lines as Brucie.”

                But Brucie was just as good if not better than Bruce in bed. Tim knew, and it was Brucie that grinned down at him and had his hands on Tim’s ass. Because tonight they were going to play.


	146. Ruffle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can you write a fic that Damian tells cass that he has a crush on her and she just laughs and ruffles his hair and the jump away and kick butt? Plleeeease?? Or just that basic idea please? Thanks, you're awesome.
> 
> \----lilatheborrashipper"

             Damian eyed Cass carefully. It took several weeks of planning, but he managed to get nearly everything perfect. It took the longest to scout out the perfect rooftop. He couldn’t go during the day because father insisted he went to school even if the teachers were incompetent and not even worth a grain of salt. At night there was patrolling, and Pennyworth always seemed to catch Damian when he was about to sneak off and search. He had more important things to do. Setting the table was a servant’s job. Not his!

              But despite the difficulties, Damian managed. The rooftop was perfect, and Cass was there. Gotham was merciful with her skies—it actually looked pretty for once. Not that Damian cared, but females care for that sort of thing, didn’t they? And Damian didn’t even have to try and plan a route to get them to the rooftop.

                Damian opened his mouth to speak, but no sounds came out. Cass looked at him questioningly, and Damian closed his mouth. He refused to look like an idiot in front of her.

                “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Damian said and felt himself withered in the inside. That was an entirely pointless statement. He could only blame Grayson for that. Allah knows how much time Damian had to suffer the older man’s methods of flirting. He made a note to avoid Grayson for awhile until his brain cells regained their former capabilities.

                Cass tilted her head.

                “Yes.”

                “It’s pretty like you are,” Damian continued and he cursed himself even further. That sounded way too much like Grayson. But Cass laughed, and Damian could feel his stomach fluttering at the noise. He had not imagined it would be that difficult to confess his ardor for her.

                Cass reached a hand out to him at the same exact moment their communicator beep. Damian couldn’t quite hide his scowl as Cass answered it. Naturally, Fatgirl was unable to cope and needed Cass. But did it have to be during this? Damian didn’t know when he would get another opportunity. Cass didn’t come to Gotham that frequently.

                “I’ll go,” Cass said. Damian nodded, but he was surprised by Cass’s hand on his head. She ruffled his hair gently before shooting a line and grappling off.

                Damian smiled to himself before he too shot off a line. Trouble was brewing by the East River according to Oracle.


	147. Imagining a lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is surprised by Tim's prowess in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration from a conversation between Miss Pro, Redundant and FWD

                 Jason was pleasantly surprised. He was more than surprised. In fact, he had to roll onto his side and look at Tim because he was so surprised.

                “Hey, Tim?” He asked softly.

                “Hm?” Tim looked up at him. The top of his cheeks was flushed a slight pink, and the arm that wasn’t beneath his head as a pillow was down on the sheets. His hand curled around the fabric, clutching it tight. That made Jason smile. Baby bird was still innocent and embarrassed, but that didn’t account for his knowledge.

                “Are you sure that was your first time?”

                “Ah—what?” Tim’s blue eyes widen so much that Jason had to laugh. Tim’s cheeks darken furthered, and he clutched the sheets tighter, pulling upward.

                “I’m not judging you,” Jason said. “It’s just…I wasn’t expecting much.”

                Tim’s face smoothed itself into a blank slate.

                “It was my first time.” Then, the slate broke and Tim’s eyes were everywhere except on Jason. “Was it…was it really bad?”

                “What? No!”

                And Tim’s head jerked to stare at Jason in bafflement. “Really?”

                “That’s why I was asking,” Jason continued. He gently tugged the sheets down and splayed a large hand on Tim’s chest. “You were more than good.”

                “Oh.” Tim’s ears were also pink. “I’ve…I’ve thought about this a lot. Imagined it and—“

                Tim cut himself off, and Jason found himself nodding mentally. Tim could run stimulations in his head a thousand times over.

                “How much is a lot?” Jason’s hand started creeping lower.

                “Um...it’s, it’s a lot,” Tim said lamely.

                “Why don’t you show me what else you imagined?”


	148. The Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation from chp 107.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For storiesintheashes.

               The Hunt hadn’t begun yet, but the gravity of the situation forced their hands. Called them to the Manor early to see Bruce’s corpse. Alfred, the caretaker of them all, merely smiled and opened the door before they could knock.

                “My, I have not seen all my boys under one roof in so long.”

                He ushered them into the foyer, except for Dick who eagerly shoved through them to give the man a hug.

                “Alfred! I missed you!”

                “You were here last week,” Alfred said dryly.

                “Hello Alfred,” Tim greeted more quietly at the same time as Damian said, “Pennyworth.”

                Jason only nodded. He would talk to Alfred and make his own comments in private later. Dick released Alfred from his hold apologetically. Reunions were not as important as to the preparations before the Hunt.

                “I believe you know why we’re all here,” Dick said, all business.

                “No,” Alfred said with a bit of amusement. “I thought it was an early birthday present that you four decided to get along.”

                Jason snorted. “Lies, Alfred. No one knows when your birthday is.”

                Not for lack of trying either. No one knew Alfred’s exact age either except that he was the oldest and had been around the longest.

                “You draw attention by being here together,” Alfred said more seriously.

                “It will still draw,” and here Dick was wicked in his voice, “an element of surprise.”

                “Perhaps,” Alfred said. “This way.”

                Alfred led them down to the cave. The passages were long and twisted. A maze for anyone else besides their clan. It was exceedingly cold and full of bats. There were multiple caverns, but Alfred brought them straight to the one where Bruce’s body resided.

                “I can go no further.” Alfred paused before the entrance of the cavern.

                “I understand,” Dick said warmly. Alfred could not participate with them. His loyalty at the moment was with Bruce.

                “You will find—“ Alfred was cut off. A sudden shiver, violent and visible, passed through his body. Alfred dropped his knees, coughing and hacking. Jason went to his knees to try and steady the man, but a touch and Alfred faded.

                Jason clutched at the empty air, momentarily confused before it twisted to anger.

                “Fuck, Dick—why didn’t you tell us?”

                Dick was only slightly white. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know that is possible.”

                “Of course,” Damian said. He stalked into the cavern without a backward’s glance at them. “My father will not tell us. My grandfather had said it was possible—even before the body is.”

                Damian crossed to the center of the room where Bruce’s body was laid out. He looked down, teeth sharp and gaze full of contempt.

                “And his dead body.”

                He poked it rudely, and the body deflated before it too faded the same way as Alfred’s body.

                “Decoy,” Tim affirmed. He had gone to the far left instead where different crystals stood arranged on a block of stone. Tim passed a hand over them, and a slow shift of the floor creaked and groaned.

                “More than I expected of you, Drake,” Damian sniffed as they watched a glass case rise into view.

                “Be civil, you two,” Dick warned. They stood in tense silence as the glass case firmly set into place.

                “That’s ugly,” Jason commented. Bruce’s naked body was spread out indecently, but it was the lines and marks scored across the flesh that drew attention.

                “So, it is possible,” Dick said grimly.

                “You think he knows?” Damian questioned.

                “I do not think so,” Tim said. “Starting early has it disadvantages as well—he most likely started before we knew.”

                “That’s all we need,” and Dick laughed darkly and bared his teeth. Jason met his eyes with equal ferocity.

                “It’s time to hunt, Dickie.”


	149. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows Titans Academy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh…I’ve probably been reading too many Avengers fanfic or something. As I wrote this, it went off on a weird tangent and collided with the Titans Academy fic I wrote a while back.
> 
> For those of you who don’t know, this is tronkon’s idea where Kon ages slowly and is kind of immortal. He has outlived everyone, and in the really, really far off future he ends up becoming a professor at Titans Academy — where the Titans become a school and does not accept non-mutant/special ability students.
> 
> What I wrote here was a “what if” thingy (because like I’ve said I was reading too many Avengers fanfics or something). Tim’s death is kind of a mystery, and his body was never found. What I wrote here details what happened to Tim and really…really…*cough* Captain America, anyone?
> 
> [Oh, and this is a few years after the Titans Academy fic where Kon has made changes to the system.]

               There’s a sourness in his mouth. He smells it in his nose, feels the phantom taste of it on his tongue. It’s vinegar but not quite. And it burns, burns harder than alcohol. Tim wishes he could breathe cleanly. He can’t.

                His chest is tight, and there’s murmuring above him. Everything Tim sees is green, hazy and murky. It was only ever bright in the shallows. The depths are where they stashed him. Kept him till they needed him.

                He wasn’t allowed to die. Not just yet.

                 _“You are at your wit’s end, Detective.”_

_Tim can’t do more but shoot him a dirty look. Blood fills his mouth, and everything aches. Ra’s smiles and pets him gently._

_“You will be given a chance to redeem yourself,” Ra’s says. He nods his head and beckons for the ninjas to bind him. The world is in smoke behind him, and Tim knows he has failed._

_“I am always kind to those who deserve it.”_

_Ra’s nudges him to the edge of the water with his foot._

_“I would wish you a peaceful slumber, but I know the waters are not.”_

_Tim sinks, helpless._

                Tim gasps for air. The first clean air in forever. He forces himself to sit up. Where was he?

                “Tim! You’re awake!”

                “Kon?” Tim asks. He isn’t sure. Kon looked older, and the objects in the room looked way too advanced.

                “Yeah,” Kon says and nods his head. “How do you feel?”

                “Cold,” Tim admits and realizes it’s true. Kon punches a few buttons on the table, and heat floods around him. “What happened?”

                Kon’s face turn grim. “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

                He scratches his head sheepishly. “I don’t know how to tell you this but—“

                “Professor! He’s awake?” A boy with brown hair was staring at them.

                “Yes,” Kon answers.

                “That’s so cool! We should—“ The boy chatters on excitedly, but Kon cuts him off.

                “Not now,” Kon says sternly. “He just woke up.”

                Tim’s head is swimming. Trying to catalog everything. Since when was Kon a professor?

                “Kon, where am I?” Tim asks warily. He wonders if he should check. Make sure this is really Kon, but he’s so tired. So relieved to be breathing and out of water.

                “It’s been a long time,” Kon says. “This is the Titans Academy. It’s the future.”


	150. Dressing Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damian is introduced to cross-dressing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Batfamily stuff. Filled anon prompt.

           “Too tight,” Tim gasped, wincing because Dick—Dick the wonderful person that he was if Tim didn’t want to hit him right now—was pulling at the strings of his corset.

          “It can never be tight enough,” Dick said cheerfully, but he eased up and looped the strings into a double knot to keep it from being worked open. “A slender waist catches—”

          “Dick!”

           Tim’s face was red, both from the loss of air and Dick’s next lewd sentences. Then, the red whooshed out him as Damian wandered in.

         “Have you no decency?” Damian asked, having caught Dick’s words. His head was down, studying the files on his laptop intently. He was no doubt preparing for the mission, and Tim was thankful that Damian wasn’t paying attention to—

          “What do you think, Dami?” Dick asked loudly and clasped Tim hard on the shoulder, shoving him forward slightly. Damian looked up as Tim made a mental note to do something horrible to Dick later.

            “You are dressed like a common harlot,” Damian observed.

            “It’s tradition apparently,” Tim gritted out and shoved Dick’s hand off him. He straightened his skirt with as much dignity as he could. Damian raised an eyebrow.

            “He’s just going undercover and needed to look the part,” Dick explained casually and handed Tim a brown wig. “In fact, why don’t you give this a try since we have everything out already?” 

           “What?” Damian said.

           “Yeah, give it a try, brat.” There was no way Tim was going to stand here like this and be insulted, and he tossed Damian a wonderfully neon pink skirt. It was shocking.

           Damian snorted and threw the skirt back at him. “I have no desire to parade around like a woman.”

          “You need the practice,” Dick pointed out calmly and tossed a muted brown skirt at him. “It’s actually pretty tiring to wear heels. You need to get use to them.”

         “And why will I need the practice?” Damian asked. This time, Tim stared at Damian.

         “Are you serious? You are not getting out of doing these if I have to and everyone else has to.”

        “Undercover missions,” Dick emphasized. “As a female.”

         “You are serious,” Damian stated, and the look on his face was funny enough that Tim was tempted to laugh, especially since Dick was holding various dresses to himself trying to pick a flattering one. He didn’t think Damian’s look of horror could go further than that.

         “Entirely serious,” Dick said in a way too happy tone of voice as Tim turned his attention to arranging the wig.

          “You didn’t think being a Robin entailed this, did you?” Tim commented. Reflected in the mirror, Tim could see Damian’s face going from confused to shock.

           “Nope. But you make a hell of a woman, baby bird.” Jason wagged his eyebrows suggestively. Tim groaned. Todd was here too? When did he sneak in?

           “What are you doing here?”

            “Back up,” Jason replied simply as he stalked over and dropped an arm around Tim’s shoulders. Tim looked at Dick.

            “Really?”

            Dick was only slightly apologetic. “Red Hood ground. Easier.”

            “You are doing this on purpose, aren’t you? I refused to quit being a Robin just because of your—”

            Damian had come out of his shell shock.

            “We’re not,” Tim snapped. He elbowed Jason hard and stood up, teetering slightly on his heels. “If you—“

            “Bruce makes a really hot woman,” Jason said innocently. “I’ve got pictures.”

            Damian stuttered into shock again. Tim was begrudgingly grateful for that. Noise always ruined his concentration and thus his make up.


	151. An agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet/Barbara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For squidsickles.
> 
> In January, I was working on femslash drabbles. I had two that I didn’t finish. This is one of them. I hope I did them justice.
> 
> And just to be clear, this is an AU where Janet survives and Tim never became Robin. Leading to special needs that Janet thinks her son requires. A mother always want the best for her child.

                   “How did you get in?” Barbara eyed the older lady with caution. She had little reason to interact with Janet Drake, but her appearance suggested she needed to rectify that. Immediately.

                “I came through the door,” Janet said glibly. They both knew it was a lie. Then, “I did not imagine you would be so young.”

                The remark ruffled Barbara slightly, but she smiled instead and retorted, “I did not imagine I would have you in my home.”

                Janet waved a hand dismissively and made herself comfortable with taking Barbara’s cup of tea from the table.

                “I have needs,” Janet said simply. Her voice was amused and it was because Barbara couldn’t quite hide her annoyance. That was her tea—expensive and rare enough that unless Barbara visited Alfred she wouldn’t have it.

                “What is it you want, Mrs. Drake?”

                Janet’s smile widened. “Please. Call me Janet.”

                And Barbara was too aware of how disheveled she looked with two day old hair in a messy bun and—

                “Janet.” Barbara licked her lips. It wasn’t every day something like this happened. “What do you want? A favor? An exchange to keep mine?”

                Because not many people knew she was the Oracle.

                “My son,” Janet said suddenly in a non-sequitur, and Barbara blinked.

                “Your son?”

                “I want you to teach him,” Janet said. She put down the cup of tea and leaned forward, fingers folded under her chin with elbows on knees. She looked…decidedly coy and Barbara swallowed hard.

                “Who says he’s even suited?” Barbara delayed, but even so she knew the boy and why Janet asked. Only Janet’s son could have stalked Batman and Robin nightly without being caught for several years.

                “Who do you think informed me of your location?” Janet raised one finely eyebrow.

                “Impossible,” Barbara couldn’t help but spit out. She was loathed to admit that she wasn’t aware of the boy’s capability with technology, but there was a minor breach a week ago.

                “He is my son,” Janet said. She had stood up in the time Barbara processed the statement. She was much closer, in Barbara’s personal space. She could smell her perfume—a hint of verbena in the notes.

                “I am willing to…discuss an agreement that benefits us both.”

                Barbara slid a hand up one of the arm covered in quality cloth. “Is that so?”

                “Very, Ms. Gordon.” Janet leaned down and kissed her.


	152. Have a good nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim gets brainwashed in the Unternet and goes after Dick. Gen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Crim. 200+ Follow Prompts.

 

                “Who are you?”

                Dick stared at the figure who almost matched his own uniform. He had a violent red in fingerstripes, and he had a cape and—

                “Don’t you recognize me, Dick?” A slight chuckle followed this, and it was too low and dark for the owner’s voice.

                “Tim!” He tried not to flinch as those red striped fingers touch his cheek gently. Dick hadn’t seen Tim touch anyone so freely in a while, and it was off. Strange. “You’re back.”

                He was relieved despite the oddness of the situation. Tim—he was worried and had talked extensively with Alfred about Tim’s mental state. He missed Bruce too, but for Tim to insist the man was still alive?

                “For now,” Tim agreed, and Dick remembered. He was tied up tightly, and he wondered just what Tim had been up to lately. What changed in Tim’s head? Lucius Fox only mentioned that his daughter had a more than exciting trip with Tim overseas.

                “Be a good older brother and stay quiet,” Tim said, and Dick saw it now. How unfocused Tim’s eyes were, blank and unseeing. Mind control, Dick guessed. That certainly explain Tim’s sudden drop onto his patrol route.

                “Where were you?” Dick held himself still even as he asked his question. He wasn’t as trapped as much as Tim thought.

                “The unternet,” Tim said. “I entered to sniff some things out. Look, it made me brilliant.”

                “You were already brilliant,” Dick answered honestly even as he calculated getting out. What was this unternet?

                Tim laughed. “You say that only because I pay homage to you.”

                He fingered the red running down carefully.

                “Tim,” and Dick moved one finger. Just one. He was going to get free and pin Tim down before Tim could do anything he would regret.

                “Ow!” Dick hissed and felt sleepy.

                “I know,” Tim said, and his smile was unpleasant. They had trained together once after all. “Have a good nap while I collect the rest of our family.”

                Dick hoped Jason could knock some sense into Tim.


	153. Chapter 153

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ra'sTim.

“Step any closer, and I’ll—”

“I won’t,” Ra’s interrupted smoothly. He shook his head. “I rather you come willingly.”

Tim kept his bo in front of him just in case. Like that was going to happen.

“Just,” Ra’s said. “Let me tell you. You think you know it all, but you haven’t lived as long as I have. You haven’t see the world as I have seen it through the years.”

“I have seen enough,” Tim replied, wondering where Ra’s was going with this. His eyes narrowed, ready for any tricks.

“Have you seen enough?” Ra’s countered.

“I can speculate if not,” Tim answered. He was good at picturing, and he could calculate and plan for almost every situation.

“Ah, yes.” Ra’s smiled benevolently. “The beauty of the human mind. Imagination.”

A shift, and it was only the bo that kept Ra’s from advancing further.

“Ra’s.”

“There are things you can only know by experience, detective. I am more than happy to show you.”

There was a leer to his voice that Tim hoped he was only hallucinating.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Think on it. You will come to me, and you will see the truth.”


	154. JayTimDick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JayTimDick - porny-ish fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FWD. Happy birthday.

                  "What is this?" Jason said, popping his head over Tim's shoulder. Tim shut the book he was reading so fast that Jason had to pull away before his nose came off with the shut. Tim's face was a furious red, color spreading down to the back of his neck. Interesting.

                "Nothing," Tim squeaked before clearing his throat to speak normally. "It's not important."

                Jason raised an eyebrow. The book was plain and nondescript, bound in black leather. That just made him more curious.

                "Doesn't look like nothing," Jason said. "What is baby bird up to, hm?"

                He leaned down, fingers barely brushing the book before it was yanked out of his grasp. Tim seemed to be flushed even redder now. He was so red to be almost a tomato or to have been caught with his head upside down for a period of time.

                "Jason," Tim reprimanded sharply through his blush. "Why don't you go bother Dick or something?"

                "You called?" Dick said from the doorway, interrupting Jason's response. He was still in his Nightwing outfit, having just got back. It was good timing. Jason's grin grew as he slid his eyes across to Dick and back to Tim. Dick quickly realized that something was up, and Jason looked at Tim pointedly. The blood rushed from Tim's face so fast it was almost as if he had never been red in the first place.

                "Why yes," Jason said, voice full of false brightness. "Dick, come here."

                Dick looked down at his costume, before shrugging and started into the room.

                "Close the door first," Jason instructed.

                "Oo," Dick closed the door with a leer. "Are we getting some sexy time?"

                "Not quite." Jason shook his head and placed his hands on Tim's shoulders, gripping them tightly to let Tim know he wouldn't be going anywhere. Tim, on his part, tensed up, clutching his book fiercely.

                "It's more of a punishment," Jason drawled. Dick's eyes lit up wickedly, voice dropping low in tone.

                "What did you do Tim?" Dick asked, moving forward to settle in front of Tim. One of Jason's hand snaked down onto Tim's chest, not quite touching the book. Jason knew Tim was staring at his hand warily.

                "He has a book," Jason told Dick. Then, "get on his lap."

                "Hey," Tim protested as Dick straddled him, pressing in close.

                "Hey Timmy," Dick crooned, hands on Tim's waist now, lightly stroking. "Whatcha reading?"

                "It's none of your business," Tim said primly and shivered when he felt Jason's teeth scraped the back of his neck before biting down and soothing the sting with the flat of his tongue.

                "I think it is," Jason hummed as Dick wriggled and made himself more comfortable. Tim whimpered just the slightest bit.

                "Let me see," Dick's hand traveled up Tim's sides onto arms, wrists and hands before closing in on the book. Tim kept a firm hold of it.

                "No," Tim objected, lust lacing the word. "And don't think this is going to work on me."

                He scowled as Dick worked slowly on prying his fingers off.

                "Is that a challenge, baby bird?" Tim didn't get to answer as Jason's mouth descended on his, licking his way into Tim's mouth at a leisurely pace. Tim's fingers slacken just enough for Dick to steal the book away.

                "Dick!" Tim shouted as he broke the kiss.

                "Pin him. His arms," Dick ordered as Tim reached for him. Jason's hands fitted neatly around Tim's wrists. He kept Tim's arms trapped against the chair's back. Tim squirmed, trying to get free, but with Dick's thighs keeping him down and Jason behind him, he had no chance at all.

                "Let me go," Tim said, chest heaving a bit from the exertion. Jason nipped the outer shell of his ear playfully.

                "No can do."

                "No can do," Dick repeated cheerfully and leered. "You know you're not helping yourself at all, right?"

                Tim really wasn't, and Dick grinded his hips down suddenly.

                "Oh," Tim gasped, eyes shuttering shut at the feel. Then he blinked furiously, clearing his head. "Give it back to me."

                Jason bit and suckled, kisses trailing neatly down the column of Tim's neck. It was distracting.

                "No," Dick said. Tim bit his lip as Dick grounded hips and crotch against him again. Tim jerked his hips up in response, but Dick didn't move. Instead, he opened the book and stared at the pages, flicking through them in disbelief.

                "What is it?" Jason asked, pausing in his assault of Tim's neck.

                "Oh, Timmy," Dick breathed, pupils dilating wide. He turned the book in his hand around, holding it up so Jason could see. It wasn't a book as Jason thought, but a photo album. And it was a surprising album too. Sex pictures. Of them.

                "You kinky bastard," Jason said with approval. "How did you manage these?"

                Because there was no way for Tim to take some of them himself. Especially the ones where he was particularly debauched and thoroughly taken apart with pleasure.

                "I--" Embarrassment suffused through Tim at being caught. "Some of them are from surveillance stills. I have, um, cameras that take automatic pictures in our--my room."

                "You shouldn't be embarrassed," Dick chided lightly. He closed the album and tossed it onto the table behind him.

                "I don't think he is," Jason disagreed, eyes studying Tim carefully the best he could from his angle. "Considering he was looking at them in here."

                He took Tim's face in one hand and turned it towards him, staring into Tim's eyes. Tim's cheeks bloomed red.

                "I think you were going to jerk off, weren't you?"

                "What?" Tim stuttered, face flushed and regained his tomato coloring from earlier. "N-no."

                "He's lying," Jason said to Dick. "He was going to have fun without us."

                "I wasn't," Tim said. He didn't have time to react as Dick poked him in the ribs.

                "Dick!"

                "Jason's right," Dick said heatedly. "You need to be punished."

                He reached up with a hand, pulling Jason's face down to meet his and drew Jason into a filthy kiss, messy and sloppy. Tim groaned out loud at that, breathing hard. He was obviously turned on.

                "I don't think he should get to touch," Dick declared when he parted from Jason. He licked his lips.

                "Please. No," Tim said desperately as Jason and Dick kissed again, winding him up. "I'll even--I'll even show you the videos!"

                "You have footage?" Jason asked. Tim didn't meet their eyes, swallowing hard.

                "Yeah," he admitted. "I do."

                "Well," Dick said. "That is--"

                Jason cut him off. "Still deserved to be punished. Secretly taking pictures is a no-no."

                Jason grabbed the hem of Tim's t-shirt, rucking it up and off.

                "Will you behave, Tim?"

                Tim nodded feverishly. "I'll be good."

                "Great," Dick said. "Let's hope no one wanders in."

                "You didn't lock the door?" Jason raised an eyebrow.

                "No." Lust curled onto Dick's smile knowingly. "Tim's an exhibitionist, aren't you?"

                He skimmed his palms over Tim's bare chest. Tim looked between Jason and Dick, hesitant.

                "You totally are," Jason said when Tim's eyes met his.

                "Oh," Dick agreed. "He is."

                "I, really--" Tim tried.

                "Shut up and be a good boy."

 

                "O-okay."


	155. Inception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TimRa's in the world of Inception.

                "Did you think I wouldn't notice...Detective?"

                And Tim fell back a step as the scenery suddenly changed into a blinding white mist and clouds of grey. It was a testimony of Ra's command over his dreamscape that he could make the world suit him as he wished. He came through one particularly thick section of mist, admiration on his face.

                "Ra's," Tim acknowledged, waiting. The elder man didn't move closer, keeping his distance.

                "I must say I'm impressed," Ra's continued on smoothly. "Making it all the way to this level without catching my attention."

                "I had help," Tim admitted shortly. He eyed Ra's with caution and tensed as the mist and clouds thickened into a fog.

                "From Bruce?" Ra's asked. "You have surpassed him here."

                Tim didn't answer. Instead, he stared down at the wisps of fog curling around his legs. He didn't make it all the way down to the third level and die, but--

                "Do not worry," Ra's purred as the mist crept higher in a slithering caress. "My projections will not harm you. In fact..." -- the mist bounded Tim, arms pulled taunt over his head and legs spread wide for Ra's perusal-- "they positively adore you."

                "You're sick," Tim retorted. He didn't bother to struggle though he flushed as a piece of the fog climbed up his thigh suggestively.

                "It's my dream," Ra's smiled, one hand gesturing to the world. "Surely you can expect--"

                Ra's gasped as a sword was plunged through him.

                "You  _are_  sick," a familiar voice pronounced in agreement.

                "Who?" Ra's choked out, both amazed and furious.

                "Me." The figure behind Ra's came into sight. Ra's wouldn't die. It was only a dream, but Tim smiled triumphantly anyway. The figure was himself.

                "I told you. I had help."

               "Your projection," Ra's answered his own question as the fog released Tim from its hold. Then, he laughed, almost bitter. "You are clever, Timothy."

                "Not mine," Tim replied. "Yours."

                Because it was clearly Ra's' projection of Tim in his mind. Tim wouldn't have been so cruel as to use a sword. His double kneeled down and kissed Ra's' on the lips gently, whispering, "I told you I would be your downfall."

                "So you were," Ra's said. "So you were."

                Because Tim had what he needed, he left them as he kicked himself back. Ra's' dream was unsettling.


	156. Russian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JayTim - In which Jason is fascinated by Tim's Russian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated M. For Redundantthinking

                Jason didn't know what Tim was saying. He knew it was Russian, and that it was pretty hot. Because Tim was straddling him and whispering in his ear, tongue tracing the outer contour of it. And that whatever Tim was saying had to be absolutely filthy. There's was no way Tim could have been saying something else while groping him. Or maybe he could, Jason thought. Fuck. That was hot too. He could see it now. Tim speaking about something very generic and boring, and all the while he would be teasing Jason.

                His hands tightened on Tim's waist as Tim continued to murmur in low tones, speaking that foreign language. Jason grounded his hips upward, and Tim stuttered.

                "Jason," Tim said, mouth agape as Jason did it again. Rocked his hips up hard. Then, Tim was speaking again, smoothly and fluently. Hm, Jason thought, and he nudged his nose along Tim's neck down to the collarbone. Tim's breath hitched slightly, but he didn't stop speaking. Yup, still hot. Jason thought he could understand why people thought listening to another language is sexy. Especially with Tim's dulcet tones, dragging out each word across Jason's cheek. Lips breaking from each kiss with a soft murmured...well, whatever Tim was saying.

                "Oh," Tim gasped when Jason's fingers travelled lower and squeezed his ass. Jason smirked as Tim had to pause to finish that sentence. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked entirely too delectable. Tim started to question him but had to break and choke because Jason's fingers were in his pants now, wrapped around his cock.

                "I'm going to make you unable to speak at all," Jason growled, and he was kissing and licking into Tim's mouth. 


	157. The Other Drake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damian meets JokerTim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame this on Hearts and on afewnovelidea (because of her Ghost Story which I finally got around to reading the rest of).
> 
> Warning: violence, implied character death, multi-verses
> 
> Honestly, I don't know why it came out so macabre, or why I'm writing such a scene. OTL

 

  

            The blood flowed, dripping red. And Tim stood there, an eerie smile on his face. It was almost, almost--

                Damian swallows hard. "Why are you doing this?"

                Because he was chained, chained and locked, and Tim stood before him, a mad man covered in red.

                "Why?" Tim asks. "Why?"

                And then he laughs and laughs and laughs.

                "Drake." And Damian has to hold his breath. Because Tim's in front of him, and his blue eyes are crazed.

                "Why not?" His voice is deliberately low, deliberately calm. It's a farce, and Damian can't call in on it because--

                "Do you know who I am?"

                "You're not Drake," Damian finally says.

                "No," and this Drake smiles, lips wide, wide, wide. There's a ripping sound, and then Damian sees it. The stitches breaking at the corner of Drake's lips. His mouth is so, so red and bleeding saturates the threads.

                "No, I'm not," this Drake says. "I'm JJ. Isn't this funny?"

                He has a knife in his hand, and it slides up Damian's side, cutting shallow.

                "I had him too," JJ says and looks over his shoulder where Todd's red helmet sits on the table innocuously.

                "And myself," JJ continues and drags the knife on Damian's other side. His smile is ghoulish, and Damian knows who the smile belongs to now: the Joker.

                "Will you be next?"

 

                And JJ hums.


	158. Chapter 158

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon and Bart has a birdTim. Cassie deals with the aftermath. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Len. Happy birthday.
> 
> I'm sorry this is so short and not quite finished? I'll write something better next time. This is just a silly thing that other people have written before...I couldn't think of anything else to write. OTL
> 
> But Happy Birthday~ I love you and wish the best.

 

              "Oh my god," Bart said, eyes wide. "Is he??"

                "Yes," Kon said solemnly and nodded. "Yes, he is."

               They both looked down at the tiny bird on the table. The bird, in turn, looked back at them in turn. It chirped angrily.

               "I wonder what he's saying," Kon continued as the bird hopped around on the table. Because Robin was a bird now. Bart shrugged.

                "I don't know," Bart said calmly. There was pause. He looked at Kon who looked back at him. Were they thinking the same thing?

                "Oh god! We turned him into a bird! Batman's going to kill us!" Bart hyperventilated.

                "He's not going to kill us," Kon disagreed.

                "Yes, he will!" Bart replied and vibrated so much that Kon could feel it in the air and against his skin past the TTK. Kon thought about it.

                "No," Kon said. "He's not going to kill us. But he might...torture us."

                He looked down at Robin. Robin chirped at him again and pecked his hand where it rested on the table.

                "Ow! Robin!"

                Kon was pecked again.

                "Kon! What're we going to do?"

                "Um...," Kon quickly snatched up Robin. He was small enough to fit in his hands. Robin tweeted some more, hopping and digging his claws into Kon's palm. "Ow!"

                Bart watched on. "Are you trying to kill him? That's not going to help us against the Bat!"

                "I'm not," Kon said and closed his hand over Robin completely. "I'm just...going to take him out of here where everyone can see."

                Because who knew who was going to walk into the common room? Kon predicted right as Cassie just strolled in.

                "Uh, hey," Kon said as casually as he could. He tried to look natural with his hands cupped around Robin.

                "Hey," Cassie replied.

                Bart squeaked and zoomed out, leaving Kon with her. The traitor. Cassie looked at him quizically.

                "What was that?" She gestured a hand at the door where Bart was already long gone.

                "I don't know," Kon shrugged and smiled weakly. "I'll see you later."

                "Uh, okay?" Cassie said confused. There was sudden loud chirp, and Kon swore as Robin gave him several good pecks.

                "Ow! You little--"

                He let go, shaking his hands out. Robin dropped slightly before flying up. Cassie watched, amazed as Robin continued to trill loudly and gave him several more good pecks to the forehead.

                "Robin! Stop that!" Kon shouted.

                "Wait?" Cassie said. "Robin?"

                And Robin flew to land on her shoulder. His feathers were entirely ruffled through Kon's rough handling of him.

                "Is that--?"

                Robin chirped an affirmation as Kon nodded. "Yeah, he's a bird."

                "What did you do?" Cassie put out a palm for Robin to perch on. She immediately started smoothing out his feathers.

                "Um...," Kon scratched the back of his neck with one hand. "Bart and I may or may not have touched something we're not supposed to...and well, Robin caught the full blast."

                Cassie rolled her eyes. "Kon, you know better than that."

                Robin chirped, disgruntled. Cassie stroked his head with one finger gently.

                "We'll get you back to normal," Cassie said. She eyed the marks on Kon's face and hands. "I think you'd better stay away for a bit, Kon."

 

                "Yeah," Kon said. He didn't want to be pecked to half to death again. 


	159. Let me tell you a story...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy Batman stuff. AU.
> 
> Or in which little Timmy meets Batman, Robin and Jason in one night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the last two 200+ Follow Prompts.
> 
> For Tigris who asked for fluffy batfamily.
> 
> Also! Sorry for taking so long. D;

Let me tell you a story...

Little Timmy clutched his camera tightly. He was ten and small, crouched all by himself on a rusty old stairwell. He was waiting and waiting and waiting. Because you see, Batman and Robin were out tonight like every other night, and Tim was determined to capture them. Not catch them, catch them, silly. He's not one of the bad people Batman and Robin put in jail.  I told you already, at the start, Tim had a camera clutched tightly in his hands, and he was going to catch them on film.

The camera was beautiful, all new and shiny. His parents gave it to him before they left for France, and even though Tim was sad they were gone, it meant he was free. He could explore and do whatever he want once all the servants went home. And that meant seeing Batman and Robin. Tim saw Batman and Robin almost every night when he could manage it. It made him more happy than...than sunshine! Still there was nothing better than actual proof, and Tim was going to get it.

So, little Timmy waited on that rusty old stairwell, waited all by himself because he was ten and don't you know? Double digits mean you are growing up. You're closer to being one of the big kids. Oh, but what was this?

"You shouldn't be here, kid," a boy remarked. He had stalked onto the stairways with a little clatter, and Tim nearly dropped his camera in surprise. The boy looked at Tim with a stern expression, and Tim held onto his camera tightly. He was going to capture Batman and Robin. He was going anywhere.

"I'm not moving," he said. "And I'm not a kid!"

"You are too a kid," the other boy replied. "You shouldn't be here by yourself."

"I'm ten," Tim replied.

"And I'm older than ten," the other boy said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Tim. Who are you?"

"Jason," the boy said. "Why are you even here? Don't you have a home to go to?"

Tim didn't reply. He tried to push himself into where he sat the best he could. He wasn't budging.

"Tim?" Jason said. "Please go home. It's not safe."

Tim pouted. "I'll be fine. Batman and Robin are going to fly by, and they take all the bad away."

Jason rolled his eyes. He sat down next to Tim.

"Batman can't save everyone."

"He can too!" Tim retorted.

"No, he can't. I'm going to sit here because you're dumb, and you're going to get killed if no one watches you."

"Fine," Tim said tersely. "Do what you want."

And they sat in silence and waited and waited and waited. They waited so long and listened for every sound, but no Batman or Robin appeared in sight.

"See," Jason snorted. "What did I tell you?"

But Tim had waited so long that he had fallen asleep. Jason sighed. He didn't even know how to get this stupid kid home. Then there was a slight thud.

"Whoa," Jason said, scooting back a little. Batman and Robin stood there.

"Hey," Robin smiled at them. "Need a hand?"

"Uh, yeah...," Jason said dumbly. He watched as Batman scooped up Tim gently.

"Robin," Batman said, "escort Jason home. I'll take this one back where he belongs."

"I don't need--" Jason protested but shut up as Robin took him by the hand.

"Come on," Robin said. "I'm going to take you flying!"

 

Jason took his hand, and they went off. And Tim? Tim was nestled safely in Batman's arms as Batman swung into the night. Tim just clutched his camera tightly, stirring awake for a second before falling back asleep. You see, even if Tim didn't get Batman or Robin on film, he got to meet them. He would forever remember that sensation of being carried in the wind in flight.


	160. Carry me home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim wants to indulge in being carried by his older brother. Dick obliges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one of the last 200+ Follow Prompts
> 
> For Vare who asked for cute DickTim.
> 
> Sorry I took so long. And this is actually gen. Dick being a good older brother.
> 
> EDIT: OOOPS. Based on this!

 

                "Is this a trick?" Dick asked. He tugged his hat down lower, hiding the tired expression in his eyes from Tim's face.

                "Why would it be a trick?" Tim shifted and stretched. He was lying across the backseat of Dick's patrol car, wearing one of Dick's old sweatshirts. Dick knew he was right. He thought he felt someone watching him.

                "For one, I'm not off duty yet. And you're in my car." Dick ticked off the reasons with his fingers. "There's no emergency, it's a school night and--"

                "I get it already!" Tim rolled his eyes. "Can't I just be here? Besides, you only have thirty minutes left."

                Dick ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah I do. But it's still thirty minutes. I need to take the car back to the station."

                "Perfect," Tim nodded. "You drive. I sleep."

                "Tim." Dick looked at him sternly. He opened the door a little wider and gestured with a hand. "Come on. Up and out."

                "Dick," Tim whined. "Please?"

                Dick sighed. "You need to tell me why though."

                And Tim flushed pink, embarrassed. He toyed with the edge of the sweatshirt.

                "I'm waiting," Dick reminded when a minute went by without Tim saying anything.

                "It's stupid," Tim mumbled.

                "Nothing is stupid," Dick said. "Now, come on. Why are you here? I know you have a perfectly good bed in Gotham."

                "They say...if a kid fall asleep in the backseat of a cop car, then you have to...carry them..."

                Tim trailed off as Dick understood.

                "Oh, Timmy," Dick said and smiled. "Come here."

                He put a knee on the floor of the car and awkwardly leaned in to pull Tim into a hug. He stroke Tim's hair gently.

                "You don't need to pretend. You can just ask."

                "Yeah, but...it's stupid." Tim's voice was slightly muffled against Dick's shirt.

                "It's not," Dick reassured him. "All right. Sleep now. I'll drive."

                "Are you sure?" Tim asked, pulling back from the hug. "I don't want to be a bother."

                "I'm sure," Dick said patiently. He pushed Tim back. "Lie down."

 

                Then he shut the passenger door, went around and clambered into the driver's seat. Dick hummed lightly and drove. And if he couldn't help the widest grin on his face when he carried Tim out of the car, well, he was a big brother.


	161. Terrible Chopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim and Damian bond by cooking soup for Alfred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last 200+ Follow Prompt
> 
> For Loverwren who asked for Tim and Damian bonding, gen.
> 
> I'm sorry. I don't know where I was going with this.

 

               "I did not know you could cook," Damian observed as he watched Tim puttered around in the kitchen. Alfred was ill, and all the boys had taken on the duty of caring for him. Tim and Damian had appointed themselves to chicken soup duty. Jason was mildly offended. He was the better cook of all them, but they wrangled the task from Jason anyway.

                "Funny," Tim quipped. He dumped the carrots he had cut up into the pot. "I could say the same about you."

                Surprisingly, they worked well together in the kitchen. And they did not threatened to kill each other. Yet.

                "Tt." Damian added his own cut up vegetables to the pot. There was a look of pride on his face at his ability to cook. "It's a skill."

                "Oh, definitely," Tim agreed absent-mindedly. "Pass me the ladle, will you?"

                Damian tossed it over, and Tim caught it.  "Thanks."

                He stirred the soup and watched the fire. The soup was going to be simmering along nicely in a bit. Damian, at the counter, was sifting through flour.

                "Making bread from scratch?" Tim wiped his hands on his apron after setting the ladle aside. Damian rolled his eyes as if that was obvious.

                "Where did you learn to cook?" He asked abruptly instead.

                "My step-mother," Tim answered simply as he handed an egg to Damian. Damian made a well and cracked the egg into it.

                "Your step-mother?" Damian's forehead furrowed. Tim nodded.

                "Yep. Actually, this was probably the first thing I learned. Chicken soup for Steph. She was sick."

                "Hm," Damian said. "Then it had better taste good."

                Tim sighed. "It's soup."

                "Which still demands taste," Damian said. "And please don't tell me you are one of those idiots who rely on a sickening amount of salt for taste."

                He knead the dough with strong presses. It shaping up nicely, and Damian would be able to set it aside to rise.

                "That's gross." Tim made a face.

                "Obviously," Damian said and narrowed his eyes. "I know, you're there, Grayson."

                Tim turned. Dick was looking at them, a huge gleeful expression on his face. He looked like he wanted to squish them.

                "Hi," Dick said in a dopey voice.

                "Dick." Tim resisted the urge to bang his head against the table. "I thought you were with Alfred."

                "I was," Dick agreed. "Jay's there now. I'm just checking up on you two."

                "As if you're any use in the kitchen," Damian snorted. Dick wasn't hurt at all. He was still smiling widely.

                "And," Dick continued, "I find my two little brothers getting along."

                "Oh god," Tim said. He made a mental note to erase the footage before Dick could print out stills.

                "Yes," Dick said cheerfully. Damian and Tim shot each other looks.

                "Drake is useless," Damian declared. "His chopping is terrible."

                "The brat is more useless. He didn't even help me cut the chicken," Tim said in turn.

 

                Dick's face was a little grief stricken. "Aw, come on."


	162. Face Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backstory: Jason worked as a child prostitute. One of his clients was a female and abusive, emotionally, verbally and physically. But Jason couldn't stop working. He kept the relationship because he needed to survive. 
> 
> And this piece here is Jason reacting to Tim who accidentally brings the memory up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man...I think I messed this up. But I was listening to the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus' "Face Down". And it gave me feels. Also, all the Jason stuff coming across my dashboard. I think I didn't do it justice, but yeah.
> 
> Backstory: Jason worked as a child prostitute. One of his clients was a female and abusive, emotionally, verbally and physically. But Jason couldn't stop working. He kept the relationship because he needed to survive. 
> 
> And this piece here is Jason reacting to Tim who accidentally brings the memory up. 
> 
> So Triggers: hinted child prostitution, child abuse, some PTSD, etc
> 
> And don't look to this as a guide on how to approach such topics.

Jason flinches, and Tim stares. Which wasn't long enough to be a stare by normal standards, but it was a stare by Bat standards. Jason doesn't notice. He smooths up. Covers up the flinch with a sleight of hand. He knocks the salt shaker in his hand in front of Tim, right in front of his face.

"You need salt," Jason says and puts a dash of it into the pan. "Not too much, but just enough."

"I thought this was supposed to be healthy," Tim says with a wry smile. He moves his eyes to the pan and lowers the spatula in his hand down to it. Not staring because then Jason would know he saw him flinch.

"It is!" Jason says. He plops the shaker back into the cupboard. The shaker makes a thud, but it doesn't break. "Doesn't it smell good?"

Tim's stomach growls in response, and Jason laughs. There's unease in it, and Tim knows he can't let it go. Because this was odd. All Tim did was point the spatula to describe the action of the last criminal. But he waits until they're sitting down.

When the plates of steaming food are on the table, Jason sits opposite of Tim like he always does. But he's hunched inward, as if trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Jason...," Tim starts slowly, but he was never good at being tactful when it came to him. 

"Yeah?" Jason looks up at him, blue eyes wary and cautious.

"You flinched," Tim says bluntly, and Jason flinches again.

"It happens," Jason brushes off and shovels rice into his mouth to keep from speaking. 

"Did you think I would hit you?" Tim asks, and Jason freezes with the next bit of food halfway to his mouth. He shoves it the rest of the way in and chews.

"Just eat," Jason says roughly, speaking with his mouth full.

"Jason." Tim frowns. Jason throws his fork down. It clatters loudly in the room, and some of the rice spills onto the table. His mouth is tight.

"What do you want me to say, huh?" And Jason's aggressive. Coarse.

"I don't know," Tim says because he really doesn't know. Jason sighs and stands up, chair scrapping against the wood.

"Well," Jason says and runs a hand through his hair. Agitation runs through his body, and Tim keeps himself still. Keeps himself seated.

"Fuck," Jason finally says. Frustration bleeds into the word.

"It's okay," Tim says. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked if you're not ready."

"No!"

And Tim startles at the force of it. 

"I just...it was...," Jason says brokenly. "From before." 

He smiles ruefully. "Before I had magic. And well, I lived on the street."

"Oh," Tim breathes and understands. 

"She wasn't even that big," Jason says. But that didn't matter. Not to a child. Not when you're starving and you needed to eat. 

"It paid," Jason said. "So, so it's okay. It was a long time ago."

"But it still hurts," Tim points out. The words seem too hollow, not enough.

"Yeah," Jason says. "But I can take it. I can handle it."

Tim slowly gets up. He keeps his hands in front of him so Jason can see.

"Can I?"

Jason slides himself into Tim's arms, accepting the hug. Tim is smaller to Jason in so many ways. It was scary to know that Jason was afraid of him.

"Thanks," Jason mutters into his hair. 

"I love you," Tim says simply.


	163. Being a Teen Villain is Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DC AU Prompt - Steph Brown is the teenaged villainess, Spoiler. While getting as severe beat down from her dad, Cluemaster after he found out his daughter was one of the bad guys, teenaged assassin, Cass Cain, shows up and fights the 'goody two-shoes' master detective of Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Frostbite883.

 

                In another universe, a  _whole_  other world, the Cluemaster would have been a bad guy. Maybe he would have been a normal civilian who had no clue what was going on. Or just  _maybe_  the Cluemaster would  have been dead. In any case, whatever the Cluemaster was in those universes, he was  _not_  that here. Of course, that made Steph's life a little difficult. Okay, a whole lot difficult. Because Steph really loved her dad. She really did and couldn't ask for a better one. However, it was still problematic when you were, say, a villain, and your dad wasn't.

                Seriously. Steph's life would have gone a whole lot better  _and easier_  if her dad wasn't a good guy. For someone named the Cluemaster, he wasn't a Riddler. He was a honest to god good guy. Maybe a little low on the superheroing chain, but still there. And when you were fighting crime, it didn't matter if you were famous or not. But still. Dad, hero. Steph, not hero. And naturally, because the universe hated her from giving her a pregnancy scare to the Robin who almost bricked her in the face, Steph was going to get caught. Because she was being her teenage self.

                "Um," Steph said intelligently. Her mask was off and hood down, and she was frozen halfway into crawling through her window into her bedroom.

                "Steph?" Her dad stared at her in disbelief. He was still dressed in his Cluemaster outfit, indicating her just got home not that long before she did.

                "Hi dad!" Steph chirped awkwardly. Her dad's face quickly went from disbelief to stern.

                "That isn't what I think you're wearing, is it?"

                The purple eggplant suit was a color that was hard to miss. It was the special sole indicator that Steph was the Spoiler. And there was no way Steph could lie convincingly about it.

               "If you don't think it is, it isn't," Steph said and wanted to slap a hand over her mouth. Not the smartest thing to say. Really.

                "Stephanie Brown!"

                "I can explain!" Steph tucked herself a little further back into the window sill.

                "Really?" The Cluemaster said. "You can explain why my daughter,  _my baby girl_ , is a villain. A teen villain who is sneaking back into her room after a night of crime instead of like other normal teenagers who sneaking back into their room from a date."

                Well, when you put it like that...

                "I'm being rebellious?"

                The Cluemaster leveled another stern look at her. "Stephanie."

                "Okay, I can't!"

                "Of all the stupid things--" The Cluemaster stepped forward. Closer. His lips were tight, and this was not going to be good.

                "I'm gonna...wait till you cool off," Steph smiled nervously and tumbled out the window. "I'll stay at mom's tonight!"

                She hurriedly yanked her mask and hood back into place.

                "Stephanie!"

                Too late. Steph was already hopping across the various roof tops of Gotham. She really didn't want to get caught by her own dad.

                "Wow!" Steph yelled as her dad appeared in front of her suddenly.

                "I can't believe a daughter of mine would --"

                "I'm sorry!" Steph said and ducked as her dad threw a fist at her.

                "Sorry doesn't cut it!"

                Steph winced as she socked her dad hard in the gut. Though to be fair, he was the one who taught her how to slug effectively. Bet he didn't think it was going to be used against him.

                "Steph!" The Cluemaster slammed into her hard. Steph kicked him off hard, and she blinked as he crumpled to the ground.

                "What?"

                "Hi." A soft voice said. The speaker was a petite Asian female.

                "Uh, hi." Steph said, blinking. "Did you--?"

                "Yes," the girl said simply. "Cass."

                "Uh, Spoiler," Steph said. She looked at the Cluemaster's body. "He's not dead, right? Please tell me he isn't dead."

                "No," Cass said. "He is out. Two hours max."

                "Okay...thank you."

                Cass smiled at her. "You're welcome."

                Steph rubbed a hand against her eye. "Now I have to find some way to cart him home."

                Cass looked at her questioningly, so Steph explained. "He's my dad."

                "Oh," Cass said and nodded. "My dad is like that too."

                "Cool," Steph said. They looked at each other. Then, they laughed.

                "Oh god," Steph said. "This has got to be one of the stupidest craziest thing that has ever happened. You want to help me haul him back? I'll feed you pancakes."

                Cass knelt down and scooted the Cluemaster's arms into position.


End file.
